


State Of Our Heads

by LionsMark



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Abuse, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friendship, Ghoul Sex, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Slavery, Slow Burn, Telepathic Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-08-20 21:51:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 111,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16563770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LionsMark/pseuds/LionsMark
Summary: Charon had kept an eye on his soulmate from the time of her birth and up until this point, 20 years later. He had never dared to connect with her. He wasn't even a free man, a slave in all ways but the name. But things change. He was ready to release his tight hold on the bond and finally be there for her.Only problem was that Anja wanted nothing to do with him. He was just an unwelcome voice in her head that proved she'd finally gone insane.I suck at summaries. Charon x OC pairing. Loosely followng the main storyline, Point Lookout main story, and a few side-quests.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hello! Totally new poster on this site. Although I've stalked your stories here for years ;)  
> I've dabbled a bit with fanfics before, but never really comitted to it fully. Lately though, I've read some AU Soulmate fictions in the Fallout universe, and I gotta say I'm thoroughly intrigued. So I'd like to give this one a go. I know Fallout 3 is oooold news by now (especially with 76 resently released), but I can't stop myself from going back to it every now and then. Also; Charon *insert dreamy face and hearts* Silly, I know. I'm a grown woman and should be above this.
> 
> I'm doing a kind of different approach to the soulmate part though. The feelings and bonds are all there, but I'd like them to be able to communicate as well. Like telepathy? Honestly, I'm so new to this that I haven't entirely figured out how this works yet.
> 
> Comments are appreciated, good or bad, I'll take them all. Although I prefer polite ones ;) More notes will follow. I'll also add more tags and trigger warnings and other comments I deem it necessary for you to know about.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Birth**

 

The moment it happened, Charon fell to his knees in pain, catching himself with a hand to the ground.

“No,” he growled, teeth grit and face twisted in anger and agony. “ _No_!” Fate would not be this cruel. “Not again.” He groaned, the pain close to unbearable. He could feel his every nerve flare to life, the sensation burning all the way from his scalp and down his spine. It spread out, down his legs and out his arms, settling at the tips of his fingers and in his toes. And then it returned, back into his spine, all the way up to his scalp, worming into his brain, giving him a terrible headache. Lightning flashed before his eyes, his vision blurred, and then he saw.

Blood, sharp light stinging their eyes. A sickening, wet sound as they were pulled from warmth, cold air against their fragile skin. They were choking, and something slapped their back, they coughed on reflex, gurgling, their lungs burning. And then they cried, the sound was thin and helpless, whimpering and shaking. Their newfound sight caught a glimpse of faces, a man and a woman. The man was wearing a white coat, _doctor_ , the woman looked filthy and scarred and old. _Mother perhaps_?

 _“It’s a girl!”_ the man announced. Charon could feel something rough, a blanket most likely, was rubbed against their skin, wiping them dry. Wiping _her_ dry. Then another piece of cloth was wrapped around their flailing limbs, securing them inside it like a cocoon. She was still crying, a terrified and confused and reflexive cry. Out of instinct, he pushed his feelings through the bond, calm, reassuring feelings. The crying settled into helpless and thin little hiccups.

Then the sharp sound of a woman screaming pierced their ears, and no matter how much calm Charon poured into the bond, the infant began shaking in a new kind of terror. It grew dark as the infant closed her eyes shut. Her thin little cries mixed with the woman’s sharp and painful screams. The urgent voices of the older female and the doctor mixed into the sounds.

And then he was released from the vision.

Charon took a moment to just breathe while the pain in his brain settled, his mind splitting in two while his consciousness struggled to accommodate the new presence inside. “Not again,” he repeated with a groan, collecting himself enough to stand. He could not go through with this again.

He wanted to cry, his throat was thick and his eyes moist. He could still feel her, scared and confused and so small and vulnerable. A part of him wanted to rush off and find her, make sure she made it, protect her. The other part of him wished she would just die along with her mother.

Gripping his shotgun, Charon bit his teeth hard. The Capital Wasteland was a hard and unforgiving place. If he just stayed out of it, thinned their bond to a minimum, she would be dead soon. Very few made it into adulthood.

His new soulmate had just been born.


	2. Chapter 2

**Watching**

 

Age 4.

Charon sat comfortably on a rooftop, his legs hanging freely over the edge of the roof while he smoked a cigarette. His posture was relaxed, hunched forward so that he leaned one of his elbows on his knee. His long ago acquired black sheriff’s hat shaded his eyes from the setting sun. The modified shotgun laid next to him.

His eyes looked down at the streets below, but he wasn’t seeing anything there. His mind was preoccupied seeing elsewhere, looking at the world through the eyes of someone else. Someone small.

The child sat in the middle of a pile of junk, her small and sloppy hands trying to assemble a broken toaster. She bit her lip while she worked, humming to herself, the melody unfamiliar to Charon. Her smooth and delicate forehead wrinkled into a serious grimace while she concentrated, her eyes focusing on she small screw she was trying to put into place. The screw was supposed to hold the heating element in place, but it kept slipping from her untrained fingers before she managed to use the screwdriver at all. Eventually, the small screw fell out of its hole and disappeared into the pile of junk. There was a second where the girl stared at the toaster, her mind completely still, and then she furiously threw it away with an angry and girlish squeal.

Charon chuckled silently. She was an impatient little thing.

The girl rose to stand and walked away from the pile of junk. Her toys, really. The only toys her caretaker could give her. She was still angry, and she kicked a few of the items, making them skip over the dirt with metallic clanks. She kicked another item, and this one made a small spin when it landed. Her eyes focused on the thing, and then she hurried to pick it up, without hesitation putting it between her lips.

Charon flinched when the harmonica gave off a sour and terrible sound, the girl exhaling hard into it. Then she inhaled, still making the harmonica complain in disharmony. The sound was horrific and unpleasant, making him clench his teeth, but still with a smile on his lips. The girl cared very little that the harmonica was broken. She kept playing on it, dancing and twirling around her pile of junk, as if she was preforming in front of an audience.

 _"You knock that off, or I’ll come out there and make you!”_ an angry male voice shouted.

The girl immediately stopped, cutting the sound short, and turned, hiding the harmonica behind her back while she looked wide-eyed at the shack door. The door was closed, and the girl’s eyes stared at it for a long time, holding her breath while she waited for it to open. When it didn’t, she exhaled and retrieved the harmonica from behind her back again, looking down at it.

Charon felt her sadness. A childish sadness, but heavy and dark, and very painful. He swallowed the lump he knew was forming in her throat, suppressing the cry that threatened to cross her lips. Inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly, he felt the girl calm down. And then he withdrew from the bond, his eyes seeing the street beneath him again.

Taking a deep drag from the cigarette, Charon frowned. He knew he shouldn’t have helped her the way he had, should’ve just stayed out of it. Should’ve just let her die when she had the chance to do so relatively peacefully. But he’d found out very early how difficult it was to ignore her when he could feel her fear, or when she was in pain. He couldn’t help it, watching over his soulmate became an instinct too powerful to ignore. And she was still a small child. She was an innocent who didn’t deserve anything bad happening to her. And bad shit was bound to happen.

The girl’s caretaker, Eric, wasn’t a good person, but he kept her safe enough. Charon didn’t like the way the man treated her, but he wasn’t able to go get her and take care of her himself. As long as the man wasn’t beating the crap out of her, or attempting some perverted pedo-stuff, Charon left him alone.

Preferably, he should leave _her_ alone as well.

He wasn’t sure she sensed him. It didn’t seem like she even knew he exited, or that he was looking in on her from time to time. And honestly, that had him feel like a creep. He was invading her privacy and looking at her world through her eyes. He could feel her and everything she felt.

Taking the final drag from the cigarette, he flipped the stump away, watching it swirl down towards the street far below him. He grabbed his shotgun and rose to his feet, shaking away the remaining feelings still coming through the bond. Years of conditioning and mental training had enabled him to thin the bond to a very minimum, and he usually kept it like that. Closed shut and sealed.

Charon hadn’t decided yet if he wanted to approach her, sometime in the future. He was a bound man, always employed, never free. Not the kind of life a soulmate would want. Not the kind of life that would ever be safe.

 …

 

Age 9.

The girl was shooting at bottles behind the shack, the hunting rifle heavy in her hands, and she used a barrel to lean her elbows on. Her aim was impeccable, her hands were trained and efficient when she reloaded. She exhaled slowly before each shot, and her pulse was lazy and calm. Charon took a moment to admire the way she felt; relaxed and soft and very at peace, the feeling coming through the bond and making him relax as well.

His anger had sparked the very moment he’d reached for her, immediately feeling the pain in her lip and cheek. The man had hit her again. Something he did more often now. Charon couldn’t be there all the time, so he had no idea what had happened, but he knew it was the caretaker who’d hit her.

But then her current state of calm soothed him. She wasn’t afraid, she didn’t feel traumatized, she wasn’t badly injured aside from the bruised lip and cheek. If anything, she was cold and collected, and she had all of her attention on the bottled targets far away, existing just in the moment.

She fired her gun, another bottle exploded on impact, and Charon hummed approvingly. The girl flinched and lifted her head.

 _"Hello?”_ Her voice was slow and wary. Charon froze, holding his breath while the girl scanned her surroundings with her eyes. Had she just heard him, or was it something else? Could she feel him?

 _“Someone there? Eric, is that you?”_ The girl took her rifle with her and walked towards the shack, rounding it to the front, eyes darting around for trouble. _“He’s not supposed to be back for another two days,”_ she said warily.

Charon withdrew from the bond, exhaling a shaking breath. He had to be careful. She couldn’t know. Not yet. Maybe never.

 …

 

Age 12.

She was pacing, back and forth, inside the shack. Her heart was racing, and she looked towards the door, waiting anxiously. She’d been doing that for days now. Wandering, unpacking and repacking her backpack, checking her weapons, counting her ammo, eating the food she was supposed to take with her.

Charon wanted to speak to her. To tell her that the man wasn’t coming back. Not ever.

But he didn’t. He remained silent, only allowing his feelings slip through the bond and into her; urgency, calm acceptance, no grief. She had to leave soon, or she’d be starving by the time she found people.

The last time her caretaker had beaten her, brutality had taken over and he’d lost control. She was still recovering from a broken rib.  Charon had made sure the man would never lay a hand on her ever again. But that wasn’t the worst part of it. The man, Eric, had been dealing with slavers for some time. And he owed them money.

Charon took care of the problem before it became an issue. But the girl couldn’t stay there. She had to go, and he was trying his best to influence her without revealing himself to her. She was stalling, reluctant to leave behind the only person she’d ever relied on in her entire life. The only person she’d ever trusted.

When she eventually left, Charon exhaled in relief, and he allowed that relief seep through the bond, to reassure her it was the right decision.

It was still far to early to approach her, but he would try his best to guard her like this. Silently influence her the only way he could, help her in the invisible ways he had done before.

 …

 

Age 18.

He could see her hardened small hands turn the pages of a book, her eyes focusing on the words and sentences, her lips moving while she wordlessly read the page. The only source of light was a small candle on a table, but in her peripheral vision, Charon saw the many shelves filled with books around her.

Was she in a library?

He focused on the words in the pre-war book in her lap, recognizing the medical terms she attempted to pronounce. She read a few more pages, annoyance building in the back of her head.

Alarm crept into him, and he focused on how she felt. Was she ill? He hadn’t checked in on her for a while, his own work taking up all of her waking hours. In fact, he was surprised to find her awake now, in the middle of the night. Her muscles were sore, especially her neck, from her hunched position over the book. But she didn’t feel sick. She felt… supple and strong.

He redirected his attention to her vision, the girl lifting her eyes from the book in her lap to scan the ones scattered on the floor around her in a circle. How long had she been there?

The building annoyance inside her surfaced, and she threw the book away from her lap. She rubbed her temples with a sigh, the annoyance settling into determination, and then she rose to stand.

She walked between the shelves while her fingers brushed over the ruined books, reading the titles of the intact ones. Several books were missing, but by the look of the pile she’d gathered on the floor, she hadn’t moved them far. She paused and read the title of another book, pulling it out to take with her. She took several more books with her and carried them back to the pile on the floor, opening the one on the top.

Charon watched with apprehension while his soulmate searched the library. It took her hours, almost the entire night. The pile on the floor grew into large stacks, her reading more and more frantic, close to desperate. His frown deepened a little when he understood what she was looking for. A chilling sensation settled in his gut when she found the first of what was going to be many books on a particular topic.

 _"Severe mental disorder, often experienced as a difficulty of distinguishing between reality and imagination.”_ She read the words out loud. Charon closed his eyes, listening to her voice. _“Feeling watched, having thoughts that’s not one’s own… Hearing or seeing things that’s not there… Lack of concentration and sleep.”_

He wanted to stop her. Wanted to open the thinned bond and stop her right there. But that probably wasn’t a good idea, since she now was considering the possibility that she was mentally ill. He risked frightening her, risked that she’d react very badly, possibly injure herself. The chilled sensation in his gut spread up his backside when her eyes narrowed on the diagnosis she’d just given herself, her index finger tapping on the word while she pronounced it slowly.

 _“Schizophrenia.”_ Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

Charon withdrew from the bond, slowly, reluctant to leave her alone. If there had ever been an appropriate time to go and find her, this was it. But he couldn’t. He was employed by one of the worst men he’d ever laid his eyes on, and he had no idea what that man would do if he caught word of Charon having a soulmate.

Gripping his shotgun tight, he promised to himself he’d find her the moment he was sure it was safe to do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably say this.. The title of the story is heavily inspired by Shinedown's song State Of My Head.
> 
> I realize that I have aplologies to give. I'm painfully aware that I've pretty much butchered the diagnosis Schizophrenia, and I mean no offense to anyone suffering from that illness. I'm a student of psychology, and I work every day with people really struggling with this diagnosis, so I know exactly how much I've carved it down to the bone. Sorry about that.
> 
> Also, I know I've described Charon that he's wearing a black and worn leather sheriff's hat. And I know his default armor doesn't include a hat. However, every time I play this game, I always equip him with Lucas Simm's sheriff hat the moment I get it. It's a bit glitchy in my game, but the hat somehow compliments his appearance, in my opinion. So for the sake of this story I'm pretending the hat is part of his get-up :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Anja**

 

Anja knew something wasn’t quite right with her.

Growing up in the Capital Wasteland was hard. A living hell, some would say. But against all odds, Anja prevailed. The desert itself wasn’t so bad, even with the immediate danger of dehydration or starving to death. She had an innate ability to know how to take care of herself. She’d always known. That was the thing she figured was wrong with her.

When she was a small child, she hadn’t really thought about it as something unusual. She’d sometimes get strange feelings coming out of nowhere, usually anger. She’d hear an echo inside her head, not a voice, but still speaking. It was something she’d thought everyone had. That everyone had that echoing and instinctive knowledge in their heads. But then she’d mentioned it to her dad, Eric, once, and he’d looked at her as if she was diseased.

It was after that Anja had understood something was wrong. And she never spoke to anyone about it ever again. People would think she was crazy. But then again, perhaps she was. And besides, she didn’t really care what they thought of her. She wasn’t a people-person.

The creatures roaming the Wasteland could be dealt with, assuming she carried enough firepower. Giant ants, radscorpions, yao guais, vicious dogs and so on….. They’d all bleed and die when she shot at them. And she was a decent shot, always knowing where to aim, when to pull the trigger, how to breathe and calm herself in the middle of a firefight. So no, the animals weren’t so bad at all.

What made it all bad? It was the people. Human descending into a primal state of existence, desperate to survive their own day-to-day war, scavenging and hunting. And they’d not only hunt animals.

Yeah, it was the people.

Not all people were bad, of course, but it was important to remember that everyone had their own battles to fight, and no one, _no one_ , had the time or goodwill to bother with other people’s misery. Anja had long ago figured out it was best to stay away from most people, so that she wouldn’t find herself in a situation where she owed anyone anything. Something about the word _debt_ had her wariness flare to life. _Careful_ , it warned, that echo inside her head she had no idea how to turn off.

Sometimes though, she’d ignore the echo and seek out the company of a sleazy barkeeper, a trader or a doctor. It was a necessity, since she wasn’t a good medic herself, and, let’s face it; humans are pack animals. Even if she was reluctant to admit it, she wanted the occasional socialization.

Not to mention the mind-numbing effects of alcohol. The only thing to mute that echoing trespasser inside her mind.

It had become a nice little routine of hers. She’d travel around for some weeks, maybe more if she got lucky and hit a well-packed stash of supplies. After a while, she’d gather her stuff and head back to a settlement, trading away whatever valuable she didn’t need for anything actually useful. Maybe she’d get patched up a little, and then she’d hit the bottle. _Hard_.

She usually avoided drinking when she traveled. Figured it made her vulnerable and unfocused, something that in the end could cost her life, or worse; her freedom. Besides, that echoing thing in her head sparked with annoyance every time she got drunk or hit the chems. Especially the latter. But hey, what other alternatives did she have? After all, she was no good medic, and when she was out there being shot at, a quick fix with some meds might just keep her alive long enough to get help. Those meds were strong though, and an addiction was just waiting around the corner. She’d already lost counts on how many times she’d stumbled into Doc Church’s office in Megaton, hooked up on meds and wounded almost beyond repair.

She wasn’t even ashamed to say it. She’d do anything to stay alive, and so would anyone else out there in the Wasteland.

But sometimes she wasn’t even sure if this thing she was doing could be called living. She’d read pre-war books about people who lived for a purpose. People who stayed alive for a very good reason, whether they were freedom-fighters, politicians, human rights activists, or just normal people looking out for their families… People who made a difference in the world. They all had a purpose with their lives, a reason to _live._ Now, after the war -it was more about keeping one’s heart beating and one’s backpack well-equipped.

She had, rather miraculously, reached the age of 20. Some might think that was young. Not out there it wasn’t. She wasn’t sure what the average life expectancy nowadays was, but she’d fought for her right to live since birth. She hadn’t grown up in a vault, neither in a city. No, she grew up wandering the wastes with her dad. Or, he wasn’t not really her dad. More like a caretaker. He’d been her hero, even with all the shit he put her through. He’d taught her how to survive. How to stay _alive_. She owed him her life countless of times. Probably the only debt she had.

Eric used to be a soldier out in the west until something bad happened and he left. She’d figured he’d been someone of importance, because he sure had the knowhow and wits about him, and a deeply rooted sense of justice. But he got his morals all mixed up after a while, like everyone do. He was already a broken man when he found her under that bush almost 20 years ago.

Yes, someone left her there.

Abandoned.

No one knew who her parents were, or where they took off to. All anyone knew was that Anja had barely been a month old and had a braided leather strap tied around her neck. Eric had told the story of how he found her by accident, and he’d stayed with her for some days, in case her mother or father decided to show up.

Obviously, they didn’t.

He’d used to say that taking her with him was the most difficult choice he ever had to make, because he knew she would be a liability and slow him down. She remembered as a child, Eric would roughly pat her head and whisper that she was the cutest little thing he ever saw, and he hated her guts for it. 

Really, Eric had hated her sometimes with terrifying intensity. Still he loved her to death. It must’ve been hard on him, the old soldier, to take care of a baby girl. How was he supposed to know that a baby needs clean water, food and…. well, clean underwear? Not to mention that a child grows and need clothing. How was he supposed to know that a child needs a hug when they fall and scrape their knees, not reprimands for being clumsy? He’d raised her practicing the Wasteland tough-love law, meaning that the earlier Anja learned to take care of herself, the better it would be for them both. If something were to happen to him, she needed to be independent.

Eric had taught her everything – reading, writing, using a map, how to shoot, how to spot a raider from a distance, how to get food and cook it, how to patch herself up and how to fight. Sometimes he taught by beating, but the lesson stuck, and he taught her well.

He called it toughening. It’s only the first 17 000 times that hurt 

She looked up to him and used to think he knew everything, that he was her hero and her best friend.

She called him ‘dad’ on good days.

They had a one-week agreement. Eric used to go on these scavenging hunts, and if he wasn’t back in their little shack within a week, she was supposed to grab their getaway supplies and head for the nearest city; Big Town. They’d known of Little Lamplight of course, and Eric had contemplated leaving her there many times, and every time decided against it. Big Town wasn’t a safe town, but their plan was that she’d follow one of the roaming traders from there to Megaton.

And one day that was exactly what happened.

Eric never came back from a scavenging trip to the DC ruins. Anja had stayed for eleven days, terrified that he’d come back and still find her there, doing the very opposite of what she’d been taught. The echo in her head insisted she left, and eventually she did. It wasn’t so hard to leave as she’d thought it would be, but still to this day, she missed her dad very much.

She’d always known she would die in battle. The only thing she could hope for was a quick death. A bullet to the head or something like that. Hell, she’d overdose on chems just to avoid a painful death, if she knew for certain that she was going to die. She might be afraid of dying in pain, but one thing she was even more afraid of, was _not_ dying in pain. One would be surprised how much a person can withstand without dying.


	4. Chapter 4

**Monsters**

 

Kneeling on the floor inside a ruined old church, with her head bowed down and her hands and feet tied behind her, Anja had to admit she was a little worried. She’d been in similar situations before, but then there were raiders, or slavers. Not super mutants. Not _five_ super mutants. _Worry_ , was just the beginning of what she felt. And the five bags of mutilated human organs weren’t doing anything good to her imagination.

While she looked down, searching the scarred concrete for answers, a solution, a miracle or something, she listened to the mutants talk. Their guttural voices were barely understandable, but she understood enough. She didn’t dare to look at them out of fear of attracting their attention, so she kept searching the floor for replies to her silent prayers. The echo was absent.

Two of them walked around outside while they spoke to each other. She could hear the words ‘captive’ and ‘more’, and then something about ‘going home’. She had no idea what they meant by home. Did these guys even have a home, or were they talking about some sort of base in the DC ruins? She’d heard rumors of a place in the ruins where they held up, like they were looking for something, or attracted to something in the area. A different part of the very same rumor was that they turned humans into mutants, to create an army. This very thought made her spine shiver, like someone just poured out burning, ice cold liquid down her back. Earlier, mutants would just kill and gut everyone. But sometimes they took captives, and it seemed random who got peppered with bullets and who got a rope tied around their hands.

Anja had encountered mutants before, and even killed a few. They were easy to avoid if one wasn’t looking for trouble. They were loud and clumsy, something that made it impossible for them to sneak up on anyone, or hide for that matter. If one tried, he (or she, you couldn’t really tell them apart) were likely to trip and stumble over his own feet, knocking over anything that might find itself in his way and make one hell of a mess. Something as simple as breathing was impossible to do quietly for these guys. Their retracted noses were barely visible, and their lips gone, making their faces twisted into a permanent sneer. Ugly, that’s what they were. Their footsteps could be heard a mile away, the heavy thumping of a beast measuring about 98 inches (the smallest ones) was distinctive, especially when accompanied by hoarse breathing and the occasional grunt or chattering teeth.

Despite all that, however, mutants were also well trained and disciplined creatures, even though mostly dumb. First of all, they had immense physical power. Their hulking height combined with proportions of enormous bulging muscles resulted in a lethal physique. Their common stupidity made them even more dangerous, as they didn’t seem to feel fear or terror the same way humans would. And secondly, they had guns. Big ones.

The common recommendation was to stay out of harm’s way.

One other thing that made them so powerful was numbers, and the Capital was basically crawling with them. They never traveled alone.

These super mutants, Anja’s captors, also had a centaur with them. A disfigured creature, stupid as hell, but sickeningly devoted to its masters. Moving her gaze a little upwards, she could see the creature’s tongue flap around through the broken window.

One of the mutants appeared to be a leader of sorts. He was bigger, had some armor and carried a minigun. He spoke to the others in a more clear language, and seemed, if not intelligent, then at least less stupid.

Why had she gotten herself captured?

She’d been heading southwest, on her way to Megaton when she got tangled up in one of their traps. She hadn’t slept for days, or eaten for that sake. The tripwire had been easy to get out of, of course, but what she hadn’t known was that five mutants were heading in her direction. All they had to do was knock her out and drag her away.

Embarrassed by her own stupidity she bowed her head lower, angry at herself and the fact that she’d survived this long on her own, and now she’d be taken out like this. Taken because she hadn’t paid attention to her surroundings and flat out just forgotten to use her senses. She’d managed to break Eric’s number one rule; Watch and listen.

She was tired as well. She hadn’t found any safe places to rest, and she didn’t want to be surprised by an attack in her sleep. Granted, she slept fairly light, but roaming the wasteland, one can never be too careful. Now she realized that her plan about getting to Megaton as quickly as possible was a silly and inexperienced decision. Something only a rookie scavenger would do. Although she’d run out on most of her ammo, food and water, she should’ve taken the time to make sure of her own safety. At least taken the time to rest and sleep.

Her heels and toes were probably peeled clear of skin, and her pants had made her very sore in a very intimate place. And, she needed a bath -desperately. Leaning forward on the floor of the church, she could smell her own, sour stench. It was sickening, but also a precaution.

Raiders would usually think twice about ‘having fun’ with anyone who reeked worse than them.

Anja’s silent self-loathing was harshly interrupted when the brute mutant came inside. Her thoughts stopped dead and she looked up, only to meet his glare from across the room. Her eyes narrowed, unable to contain her repulsion for the creatures.

He breathed heavy, the setting sun gave his skin a more acid looking shimmer. “We leave now,” he grunted to one of the others, before taking his eyes off her and exit the ruined old church again.

The super mutant guarding her responded with a sniff, and bent over to cut her legs free.

“Stand,” he ordered, and the proceeded to haul Anja to her feet. With a hard push from his hand on her back, she started walking with stumbling steps out the entrance of the church.

She couldn’t help but feel a little amazed at how the survival instinct can make a person forget one ongoing pain and replace it with mere numbness out of fear for another pain. She tried to ignore her aching feet, since she understood she probably wouldn’t be worth much to them if she fell, unable to walk. What would they do to her if that happened. Kill her? Pepper her with bullets or bludgeon her to death? Honestly, Anja didn’t care to find out, and this very thought kept her standing. It kept her walking.

Unwillingly, she had to acknowledge that these guys probably offered the best protection she could get in her current state of uselessness. They took care of two attacking yao guais, and one very big rad scorpion without even making an effort. It soothed her ill-behaved nerves, but only a little. The future looked like it could bring a radical proportion of pain and suffering that would make her wish she’d be ripped to pieces by a deathclaw instead, or died of severe poisoning after being stabbed several times in the chest by a rad scorpion. None the less, she preferred to stay alive for the time being.

She’d already noticed they weren’t headed towards DC. That was both reassuring and frightening at the same time. Reassuring because it meant she wouldn’t have to face a swarm of mutants, just yet. Frightening because it meant she was less likely to be rescued. The DC was Brotherhood territory, and they’d been known to kill mutants and release their captives. In the Wasteland, there weren’t many ‘friendly faces’, and the few people she and these mutants might encounter wouldn’t carry the guns, armor or numbers to be able to do anything but avoid them.

Her eyes scanned their surroundings while they walked. The mutants weren’t very perceptive beings out in the open. She didn’t know if it had something to do with their vision, hearing or simply just intelligence. For all she knew, they were too stupid to even imagine that there might be something hidden beyond their line of sight.

 _Someone’s watching_. Her eyes snapped to the darkness. The echo was back.

Anja narrowed her eyes at the darkness surrounding them, sharpening her senses. Someone was hiding between the rocks and bushes far away, but they were still close enough for her to notice. It was a muffled sound that didn’t belong, or a small movement that wouldn’t come from an animal. She knew the sounds of the wildlife in the Wastes. She also knew that any animal would attack on sight, same as any feral ghoul would. These weren’t animals or ghouls. They had to be people, and there was more than one. She easily ruled out the possibility that it might be scavengers. They usually travel alone, like she did. Brotherhood Outcasts were more likely to barge on and shoot the mutants, not sneak around in the bushes. She knew most of the routes the roaming traders used, and this wasn’t one of them. As far as she could tell, that only left two options on who their followers might be: raiders, or slavers from Paradise Falls.

She shivered a little in the cold air, still keeping her eyes fixated into the night.

Slavers wouldn’t attack a pack of mutants unprovoked, as they had nothing to gain from that unless they were looking for unnecessary trouble and losses. The raiders however, were stupid enough to try. They’d attack anyone, if they thought there was something to gain from the attack. It could be guns and ammo, other weapons, chems, caps, alcohol, food or the fucking clothes on people's backs. They were greedy and desperate, and top that off with heavy addictions to chems: they were likely shoot anyone dead over a bag of chips. Some raiders had even turned to cannibalism, and they would keep their captive alive for as long as possible while they amputated one part of their body at the time. To keep the meat ‘fresh’, as they said.

The mutants walked with slow strides, seemingly not in a hurry, or maybe to accommodate the pace of their centaur. It wiggled itself forward like a clumsy snail. This speed was friendly to her feet since she didn’t have to strain herself too much to keep up. It also gave her the time she needed to continuously scan the area for possible escapes, preferably not right into the arms of their observers. The hood on her stormchaser hat blocked her peripheral vision a little, so she kept her gaze forward, looking for something to guide her search for a getaway opening. Maybe she could throw herself off a cliff or into a river. She’d gladly do that, if it got her away from these monsters.

While she was looking for an exit, she noticed they were heading towards the old Police Headquarters not far from Big Town. Germantown? She’d never been there before, and as the place seemed to be full of more of these fucks, she’d wisely avoided it. After all, Anja considered herself pretty tough, but not on the border of insanity. She wasn’t suicidal. This place could be very bad news, and she could weakly recall a rumor she’d heard the traders talk about. The mutants stationed here were supposedly using Big Town as a harvesting ground for more human prey.

Anja suddenly stumbled into something on the ground.

“Walk,” the mutant behind her ordered while roughly shoving her forward, making her fall to her knees. Unable to catch herself, she landed flat on her side. The entire procession halted and the minigun brute turned towards her with loud and annoyed grunts, minigun held at the ready by his hips. She scrambled to get up on her knees, a feat more difficult than one would think with her arms bound to her back.

Maybe they’d waited for this break, an opportunity to make their move when the mutants had their attention towards her, and not scouting around the area. Looking between the mutant’s legs, Anja could make out fast movement in the darkness, and then the distinct sound of a sniper rifle being fired.

The minigun brute stumbled forward, yelling and gargling, as the bullet clearly missed its target slightly and hit him in the neck.

And then…

Hell broke loose.

The minigun fired rapidly to the ground, around Anja and towards the other mutants while the brute struggled to regain his foothold. She rolled quickly away from him and came to a halt behind the other mutants, straightening her back to look around and gain some view of the situation unfolding around her.

She’d been wrong about one thing. These weren’t raiders, they looked too armored and well-equipped for that. As far as she could tell, there was seven of them. They came running down the hill, screaming and firing their guns towards the mutants. The mutants drew their own weapons, assault rifles and nail boards, and started running towards their attackers. She saw the centaur go down, its flapping tongue in spasms as it fell.

There was no distinguishable sound in the commotion, other than screaming human men, growling and yelling mutants, and gunfire. A lot of gunfire. The humans lost men, and one super mutant went down.

She scrambled, trying to get some distance between her and the fight. Finally, she sat up and was able to draw a hidden knife she’d kept at the ankle inside her boot. Shortly after, the ropes were cut off and she back-crawled a little further.

 _Find a weapon_. The mutants had robbed her of everything except the hidden knife. She searched the battle ground in front of her with her eyes, but weren’t able to locate her backpack anywhere. One more mutant went down, and then a new kind of fear took place inside her when she spotted the man who had taken him out. He was bald and mustached, and he was wearing a combat armor.

 _What the fuck_.

A sudden and terrible rush of fear and recognition almost overwhelmed her. She _knew_ that man, she felt it deep in her gut, but Anja had never seen him before. As confusing as that was, the urgency she was feeling told her it was officially her cue to leave.

 _RUN_. Quickly, she got to her feet and started running the same moment a mutant with a nail board started to lash out on the man. She turned and ran like the devil himself was chasing her heels. Weapon or no weapon, it didn’t matter. All she could think of was to cover as much ground as humanly possible between the fighting and herself. The mutants would lose the battle, that much she’d already realized. She also realized that it was certainly not in her best interest to stick around afterwards.

So, like a scared little rabbit, she ran.

She fell, she tumbled down a hill, crashed through bushes and ignored the fact that she’d probably sprained her ankle and had cuts all over her exposed flesh. Her feet didn’t even hurt anymore. All she could feel was the ferocious pounding in her ribcage, like it was her heart that ran and her body trying to catch up. She flew past wild animals, got chased by them, but didn’t have the time to stop and get rid of them. Eventually they gave up the hunt and disappeared. She climbed up a cliff faster than she’d ever think herself capable of, and stumbled and fell into a rolling motion on her way down on the other side.

 _Keep going_. Unthinking, feral with angst and the need to escape, she got up and kept running. 

She didn’t stop until her foot got stuck between a couple of rocks and she came to a sudden and unpleasant halt that knocked all air out of her. After smashing face forward into the dirt, she gasped and sat up.

Her chest hurt with every labored and uneven breath, her hands shook violently, and the blood pumping through the veins into her head felt like painful thunder in her ears. Her vision blurred like lightening, and she realized that if she didn’t stop running, she’d probably die of heart failure right there. _Okay, breathe now_. Not bothering to tear her foot loose, she rolled over and just breathed, trying to regain control over her pulse.

It took her a while, but eventually the panic reached a normal level, her ability to reflect slowly coming back. Unfortunately, the pain from all the cuts, bruises and bones came sneaking up on her as well. It started to hurt, everywhere. She could feel how her muscles had been screaming for oxygen, spasming in cramps and aches. Shivering uncontrollably, she had to battle herself to be able to sit up.

After tearing her foot from the rocks she’d clumsily stepped into, she sighed with relief that it didn’t seem to be broken. Unfortunately, her left arm hadn’t been that lucky. It probably happened when she’d caught herself in one of the many falls during her sprint. Testing it, she tried to clench her fist, and immediately a sharp stinging pain shot through her wrist.

“Perfect. Just fucking fantastic,” she grimaced. This meant that she’d be vulnerable and unable to defend herself properly. She couldn’t keep running blinded by fear. With a heavy sigh, she scanned the area she was in. She knew where she was, and if she took it easy from there on, she could maybe, just maybe be able to hide away in case the attackers showed up. And maybe she could be able to get to Megaton without too many more injuries.

Who was that man, and how did she know who he was?

This situation required some thinking, and she desperately required some healing rest. Gathering what was left of her strength and willpower, she got herself up in a standing position. The first thing she needed to find was a safe place to stay. Slowly and with a limp, clutching her broken arm to her chest, she moved towards some cliffs not too far away. They would give her cover while she planned her next move.

 …

 

It was a pretty pathetic sight that met Stockholm’s eyes when he, three days later, hollered down and ordered the gates to Megaton opened. The figure approaching was a mess, dirty, bloody and in all ways looked like she was brutally exhausted. But she was alive. She gave Stockholm a grateful wave as she entered through the gate, and he tipped his hat chivalrously back at her.

Anja almost felt sorry for Doc Church, who welcomed her into his clinic by covering his mouth and nose. “My goodness girl, have you been living in a dumping ground for mirelurks?”

Anja didn’t bother to respond. She knew very well that she reeked and probably had a brownish, stinking cloud around her. To his credit though, Doc Church made an honest effort not to gag when he uncovered his nose to examine her. 

“Mind telling me what happened?” he asked, after patching her up and injecting an unknown amount of stimpaks and other medications.

“The love of The Wasteland happened,” Anja retorted slowly. Doc Church wasn’t a particularly friendly being, but somehow, he seemed to tolerate her presence. Probably because he knew she was good for the caps. But Anja didn’t quite trust him though. She knew very well that he’d worked with slavers before he came here. The echo had always encouraged _caution_ when she was around him.

“Well, it’s a good thing you came. Some of these wounds should’ve been tended to many days ago.” The slightly quizzically expression in his glare didn’t move past her.

“Got robbed and lost my backpack, along with my stimpaks.”

“Robbed? In the Wasteland?” he laughed. “Are you for real? Raiders don’t rob people. They kill.”

“As you may have noticed, I barely made it.” Anja glared at him. The echo hummed with irritation.

“I’ve seen you worse,” he stated simply with a shrug, before turning away from her.

The doctor allowed Anja to occupy one of his beds for two hours while she recovered. Her cuts were healed, and the bruises would eventually disappear. Her strained ankle was healed as well, and the broken wrist just ached slightly when she lifted something heavy with it. She felt lucky to have received so little severe injuries this time. Ironically though, the small ones hurt just as bad as the severe ones.

She paid off Doc Church with some caps she had locked away for safekeeping on the third floor in the common house. It was the only room in the house where no one would go, and even though it wasn’t actually _her_ room, everyone knew that she used it, and they knew better than to piss her off the few times she came to town. After all, she always left behind a good number of caps when she left.

The first thing Anja did was to sink into a very much needed and welcomed bath in the women’s restroom. The irradiated water tingled slightly against her skin. Not unpleasant though, just enough to relax her muscles. Her mind kept wandering off to what had happened.

Who was that man? The question kept returning to her, and she even asked out loud once, almost expecting the echo to respond. But it didn’t. It never did.

She only felt its presence every now and then, not at all very often. She had, a few years ago, made camp in Arlington Library. She’d spent a week there, scouring the pre-war books for anything about her condition, and the closest thing she got to an explanation was something called Schizophrenia. She’d settled with that, thinking that maybe she was experiencing a very mild version of it.

But how would that explain she had just seen a man whom she knew, but never met. The mere sight of him had chilled her veins like ice, leaving her to understand that _very bad things_ would happen to her if that man caught her. After her escape from the mutants, the surviving men had searched for her while she was in hiding, and eventually they’d lost track of her. She had kept to the hills, hiding among rocks and cliffs for as long as she could. She saw them a couple of times, wandering around aimlessly in their search for her trail.

Now that she found herself safely tucked in a bathtub in Megaton, the malicious part of her bubbled with laughter at their confusion when her tracks simply just vanished. It felt good to have escaped them. The good feeling, however, was replaced with the deep _worry_ coming from the echo in her head. And that led her to another thought… Her mind clouded as she contemplated how sloppy she’d been to be captured in the first place. One of the down-sides about being on your own in the Wastes is that there’s no one there to cover your six. Anja had managed just fine without it. Until now….

She allowed herself to soak, leaning back and ducking her head under water in an attempt to wash away some bad memories and the personal reverie she found herself in. Her hair was greasy and messy, and the water felt deliciously soothing against her scalp. She had a habit of scratching it when it became sweaty and dirty. Using her fingertips, she massaged her scalp, working to loosen up the scaly dirt and tense muscles. She was so incredibly filthy that she had to change the water in the tub two times before she felt clean enough to show herself outside again. Dressed in a simple pair of clean pants and a tank top, she headed towards Moriarty’s Saloon.

Time to get drunk…


	5. Chapter 5

**Megaton**

 

“Well well, would you look at that?” Moriarty greeted Anja with his always sleazcharming smile as she pulled out one of the stools at his bar. “Come to make my day, have ‘ya?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, old man,” she responded, winking at him and sitting down.

Moriarty might be a cunning man, able to scam just about anyone for his own benefit. Sadly, Anja had always been a little weak for him and his accent. He was one of the people who’d taken notice of her when she first arrived in Megaton at age 12. The notice however, turned out to be an interest in keeping her there to work for him when she came into her teens and started to resemble something that could attract more customers. Anja didn’t mind though. He was always nice to her, ever hopeful and optimistic that she’d someday change her mind. Nova was just 5 years older than her, but she had a damaged and disoriented way about her. She seemed more… aged. Anja had a suspicion Moriarty kept her around just because he could. He was quite sadistic that way, something the echo had recognized and warned about the first time she met him. As a result, there had never been a situation where she’d owed him anything.

She took her time to small talk a little with Moriarty, catching up on the latest news in Megaton, until he had a ‘business meeting’ in the back and had to leave. Gob, who had been sweeping the floors until now, came to take over the bar. She sat by herself in silence, staring into her whisky, mulling around an idea that started to form in her head. She barely noticed the others, Nova talking with some guy, Billy Creel sitting at the other end of the bar, Lucy West in the corner behind her… They could’ve been props in a bad pre-war movie as far as Anja was concerned.

The only thing that eventually did catch her attention was the radio. The last time she’d been in town, the reception had been terrible, if any at all. Most of the time it was just static, unless one wanted to listen to the Enclave channel. Nobody wanted that.

This time the signal was fine. In fact, it was perfect. Anja listened for a while, Three Dog rambled about his ‘good fight’ and some kid from a Vault. Vault 101. Her memory frizzed and sparkled a little as she tried to recall where she’d seen that Vault. She remembered passing by it with Eric, and he’d explained to her what it was, and that most of the Vaults were abandoned nowadays. All except this one, Vault 101. The vague image of the number 101 showed itself to her, but she wasn’t able to grab on to it and bring it to the surface. She knew she’d seen it somewhere else, after Eric and her had passed by the Vault. Sometime recent.

Annoyed at herself and her failing memory, she finished her drink and nodded towards Gob, who came over like the good little lackey he was.

“One more?” he asked, careful with his voice, not looking straight into her eyes and bowing his head just slightly to show his submission. Anja felt sorry for him.

“Yes, please,” she said, looking at him and trying to hypnotize his eyes to meet hers. It didn’t work. It never did. He just nodded and went to fetch the bottle. When he came back and started to fill her glass with golden delight, Anja kept her gaze at him. “So,” she began, hoping to keep his attention on her a little longer. “Who fixed your radio?”

Gob kept staring at her hand around her glass of whisky. The poor fucker really was subjugated. “No one,” he answered. “The signal just came back, bright and clear, a couple of days ago.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I think that Vault kid fixed the signal, cause Three Dog has been singing her praise ever since.”

That was interesting. Anja leaned forward, still looking at the ghoul, whose eyes seemed to shimmer a little by the mention of this Vault kid. He had abandoned his interest in her hands and raised his stare to her chest.

Very interesting indeed…

“Was she here? The Vault kid, did she pass through here?” she asked, and surprisingly, Gob’s eyes lifted slowly from her chest until they eventually rested at her face. He met her eyes, and she could see that his face brightened a little.

“I’m not allowed to say,” he whispered. “But yes, she did come through here. Looking for someone I believe. She spoke to Moriarty about it.”

“Bad idea, huh?.”

Gob nodded, just barely visible. He was undeniably afraid of Moriarty, but this Vault girl seemed to have done an impression on him.

“Moriarty made her run some errands,” he said darkly.

“I’m sure he did.” No surprises there then. Moriarty never gave up anything for free. It wasn’t his style, and he’d be damned if anyone ever found out that he was more soft-hearted than he showed. His hatred towards Jericho was a living proof of that, but no one knew why he hated the old raider so much. No one but Anja.

“Gob!” the angry bark from the door to the back-room stole everyone’s attention. Moriarty stood there, staring angrily at his ghoul servant. “I don’t pay you to laze around. Now get to work!” he marched over to where God and Anja were while he spoke, and as the angry Irishman he was, he finished his command with a hard slap to the back of the ghoul’s head.

Gob hunched down to scurry away, picking up his broom in the same motion, and started to franticly sweep the floor clean of imaginary specs of dust. A barely audible “You don’t pay me at all,” escaped his lips. Luckily, Moriarty didn’t hear him.

The Irishman looked at Anja apologetically. “You know, if there’s something you want information about, you can always ask your good friend Moriarty here.”

She chuckled and sipped her whisky, eyes squinting at him. “Oh, I know you too well to do that, you old fox,” she teased, earning a genuine smile in return. “Besides, it’s not really important. Just plain curiosity, you know.”

“I see. Well, don’t hesitate to ask,” he said still smiling, probably hoping that she’d be tempted by his generous offer.

She wasn’t. Never was, and never will be.

Suddenly his smile vanished as he looked over her head towards the door behind her. Instinctively, Anja turned around to look, and where Moriarty’s smile had disappeared, hers widened into a speculative grin.

The echo thrummed with distrust and warning.

“Jericho,” she purred and pulled out the stool right next to her. The old raider took her invite and sat down, clearly taken aback a little by her uncharacteristic greeting. “Let me buy you a drink,” she said, and turned towards the barkeeper and his sour expression. “One more glass, and leave the bottle.”

Moriarty complied wordlessly, and then removed himself from Jericho’s presence. Anja turned towards her company, smiling while she filled up his glass. He grabbed it and downed the liquor in one shot, holding her gaze, before placing the glass back down. Without a word, she refilled it.

“What you want, kid?” Jericho asked suspiciously.

“Oh, nothing. I’m just glad to see you, that’s all. In fact, I was going to look for you later, but now that you’re here I don’t have to.” She attempted an innocent smile, but Jericho didn’t buy it for a second. He knew she usually walked in wide circles to avoid any contact with him. He also knew damn well why.

The battered and retired old raider had more baggage in his past than most people did, and leaving it all behind was a bit more difficult than he probably anticipated when he settled in Megaton. Jenny Stahl knew that first hand, and so did Anja. Jericho had left the common house badly beaten after that incident, but that didn’t stop him from being rude and make questionable proposals every time she met him on the streets. She wasn’t afraid of him, but honestly, she was getting sick and tired of trying to verbally bite his head off every time they met. So, she fixed it by simply staying away from him. Easy enough, since she didn’t spend much time in Megaton in the first place. Now, however, he had something she wanted.

Jericho gulped down his next glass of whisky, and she could tell the alcohol was starting to work its magic. Throwing him a lazy smile, she leaned towards him from the side, refilling his glass again.

“I wanted to ask you something. Seeing that you’re far more experienced with the Wasteland than anyone I know…,” she began. One glance at him told her that the flattery hit straight home. He straightened his back proudly.

“Yeah? What the fuck do you need?”

Looking down at her hands around her glass, still contemplating if this was at all a good idea, Anja paused. The whole thing gave her a bad feeling. And the bad feeling was strengthened by the curious suspicion coming from the echo in her head. Still, it was worth a try.

“What I need, is directions on how to get safely through the DC ruins,” she answered, and was rewarded by a choking burst of laughter from the old raider. He actually spit his mouthful back into his glass and laughed out loud. The other people in the bar looked at them with surprise, and Moriarty shot a quick, disapproving glare.

The echo roared with sudden fury. _No!_

To Anja’s utter humiliation, she actually blushed.

“Oh shit, I think I’m pissing my pants,” Jericho laughed and hiccupped once. “How fucking stupid are you? There’s no such thing as ‘safely’ through the DC.” He mimicked the words with a childish and sobbing grimace. Anja clenched her teeth in annoyance, regretting that she’d even asked him in the first place.

“Well, as less dangerous as it gets then,” she corrected, glaring hatefully at him. Jericho’s expression shifted to a frown.

“No, seriously. There’s no such thing. The entire DC is packed with dangers, whether you travel through the Metro or on the streets. It doesn’t fucking matter, you get it? What the fuck you want to go there for anyway?”

“I need to get to Rivet City,” she sighted.

“Why?”

The bar was silent. It seemed that the rest of the people were eavesdropping on then, and she couldn’t blame them. Jericho didn’t exactly contain his mockery towards her and her stupidity.

“It’s bigger. More people,” Anja snapped. “I’m looking for some gun for hire, ok?”

Jericho’s eyes narrowed slyly while measuring her from head to toe, and back again. “Need a companion, is that it? I could be that man for you.”

Anja tilted one eyebrow at him in response. “Not interested.” He’d made too many vulgar gestures towards her in the past for her to even consider him as a travel companion. He disgusted her, in every way possible, and beyond. He disgusted the echo in her head as well.

“Didn’t think so,” he shrugged and helped himself to more whisky. “But if you’re going through the DC, you should be well armored and loaded with ammo. Cause you’ll need it.”

“What can I expect of trouble?” she asked, and again he gave her a look like she was a fucking stupid imbecile child who knew nothing of anything.

Actually, she felt like one too… Not a highly appreciated feeling. She’d never traveled into the city ruins before. After all, she preferred her skull where it was attached. Besides, something always stopped her. The warning from her echo, the slight throbbing in her brain that told her _no, danger, don’t go there_. Anja had been obedient to that.

“Everything you’ll find out here, kid. Only more of it. Much more of it. In confined spaces. You see? It’s a freakin’ suicide mission. If I liked you better, I’d advise against it”.

“Wow, thanks.”

“No, you don’t fucking understand, kid. Mutants, hoards of ‘em! You can travel underground where it’ll be fewer big fucks, but then there are ghouls. Lots of ghouls underground, ‘ya see?”

The hairs on her back involuntarily stood up. In the background she could see Gob slowing down his sweeping, deeply concentrated in the floor. But she knew he listened. The way he bowed his head a little further and hunched his shoulders, it all gave it away.

Amazing how the first meeting can stick with someone for so long. The first time Gob and Anja met, she’d almost screamed her lungs out, calling for help while she waived a kitchen knife towards him. She knew she should be excused, and she was in some ways. Her earlier experience with ghouls hadn’t been pleasant. After all, she was used to being chased by them. Those hissing, mutated, walking corpses that chased you with dull eyes, foaming mouths hungry for flesh and sticky hands reached out, ready to grab you.

Anja groaned silently.

 _Ghouls_.

They were frightening in more ways than their beasty nature. They frightened her to death because they used to be humans once. Humans like her. It was like a nightmarish glimpse into a possible future, a future she dreaded more than anything. If her skin began to rot and fall off, she was absolutely sure she’d shoot her own brains out.

Gob however, was nothing like that. He was a human in every way besides his appearance, at least almost. His flesh wasn’t sticky, he had some hair left, and his lips looked like they were mostly intact. They’d gotten over the first misunderstanding, after someone so kindly explained to Anja the difference between the feral ghouls and him. She liked Gob now, but she also knew the memory of their first meeting was a sore spot for him. He was, after all, pretty touchy about the subject.

Making a mental note on ammo and armor, she turned towards Jericho again.

“Sounds like I’ll need to restock and repair on the way. Are there any places where it’s possible to find shelter in the DC? Any place at all? Trading routes?”

“Well, yeah. Those Brotherhood fuckers. I know they’re guarding the Galaxy News Radio station where Three Dog holds up. You could probably cry your way in there to rest for one night or two. And then there’s Underworld. The Ghoul City.” He looked at her with an anticipant glare, amused mockery twitching the edges of his mouth.

“Ghoul City?” She swallowed. _Hard_. “Is it safe?”

“As safe as it gets in a city of ghouls,” Jericho chuckled with an ironic grin. “Other than that, you might get lucky and run into some traders here and there. They sometimes trek through the ruins.”

“Ooookeey, then.” She finished her drink and left some caps on the table. “I think I need to vomit. Excuse me for a second, will you.” Dizzy and nauseous, she got up from her stool and headed for the exit. Air, she needed air on her face. During Jericho’s talk about DC, Anja had been drinking vigorously.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Jericho shrug and check the empty whisky-bottle for remaining drops. Finding the bottle drained, he snapped his fingers at Gob.

Anja stumbled out of the saloon, welcoming the cold night air on her skin and inhaled deeply. It was probably the worst idea she’d ever had. The most stupid, silly and suicidal thing she’d ever done. But she would do it. She would, and she had to. Now that she’d talked with Jericho about it, in front of everyone in the bar, it would be worse if she didn’t go through with it. Jericho would humiliate her for chickening out, and no one in Megaton would ever respect her again.

It was also the first time she’d directly ignored the echo in her head.

**…**

 

“Does it fit you well enough?”

Anja stretched her arms, hunched down and back up, twisted her body and flexed. The armor suited her perfectly, and she didn’t even know why Moira bothered to ask. Maybe she just needed the acknowledgement that she’d done a good job.

“Yeah, this will be perfect. I’ll be well protected without losing any mobility. Thank you.”

The redhead’s eyes shone with pride over her work, and Anja had to give it to her; she had skills. She bought herself new weapons and a lot of ammo. Moira offered to spruce up the guns before she left, and she even offered to do it for free. Anja had spent every single cap on this one shopping spree.

While Moira finished her work, she sat down and waited. Moira was a gullible and naïve creature, but she was also awesome in some ways. Her curiosity and ability to learn was stunning, and it had made her an expert in certain fields. Sadly, she didn’t understand much, if anything at all, about the wasteland and its dangers. Anja had nearly killed her for it once. It was unclear what she did, or what she was thinking, but she’d sold Anja some ‘experimental’ hand grenades once. The experiment was to shorten the time it took for them to explode, apparently, cause as a result Anja almost got her face blown off. She still remembered how angry she’d been, lying in the hospital bed yelling death-treats and cursing the shopkeeper as far into hell as one could possibly get, while Doc Church desperately tried to save her face. Moira had been horrified and basically came crawling back a few days later, begging for forgiveness.

They were on the same page now.

Anja’s eyes aimlessly wandered around in the workshop while she sat there and went over her mental map of the route through the city ruins. She had a map with her, just in case, but if something were to happen and she lost all her equipment again, she needed to have at least some idea of where she was. Being lost in the ruins didn’t appeal to her that much.

She looked at the wall in the back of the room, and suddenly the illusive memory slammed into place. “Moira? Didn’t you have a suit hanging back there before?”

“What?” she turned around from her work and followed Anja’s stare. “Oh! Yeah, the Vault suit.”

“Where is it now? It was a Vault 101 suit, right?”

“That’s right, it was. I gave it away,” she responded nonchalantly and returned to her work.

“You _gave_ it away?” Anja stared at her, probably gaping. No traders would ever just give away stuff. Apparently, she’d gone even more unhinged since the last time Anja had seen her.

“To that Vault girl, of course! She’s from the same Vault, didn’t you know?” Her tone was strangely happy and carefree. Anja scowled at the back of her head and thought about something harsh to say, but fortunately, she turned around with a big smile, weapons on outstretched arms.

“There you go! Fresh and new. Well…. Almost.. heh…”

“You didn’t tinker with them, did you?” She felt a little skeptical when she took the weapons. Moira may have learned her lesson, but one could never be too careful.

“Of course not!” she reassured, seemingly hurt by Anja’s suspicious tone. It was quickly forgotten though. Moira had the ability to concentrate on the same level as a squirrel, and suddenly her face lit up like a child on Christmas Eve. “Oh, you know what? I don’t have to pester you anymore about my research for the Survival Guide. I found someone to do it for me!”

“Wha…?” Anja stared at her blankly. This crazy redhead had been bugging Anja for a very long time about some book she wanted to write, on how to survive out in the Wasteland. Jericho had refused, and eventually so had Anja. But only after she had, foolishly, agreed to help her a little. As a reward, she’d gotten to practice her landmine disabling skills, not to mention the crippled limb when a car blew up right next to her. There was a sniper on the roof across town, and he’d made her mission pretty damn difficult. In the end, he’d saved Anja’s day though… After she killed him and took ownership of his sniper rifle. It had almost been worth it.. Almost….

“Who could possibly be stupid enough to do your research?” Anja asked, curios about the person who could be persuaded by someone as soft-headed as Moira. 

“Well, the vault girl of course!” she answered, ignoring or not hearing Anja’s sarcasm.

She looked at the woman, imagining the Vault girl as some childish little doll with big innocent eyes, nodding repetitively and puppet-like in agreement to Moira’s rant about ‘helping people’.

She laughed. Loudly. _Priceless._

...

 

Anja was still chuckling to herself when she headed for the gates, ready to leave Megaton. Everything she had of value was now spent, and everything she had on her would hopefully keep her alive long enough to walk away from battle as the victorious one.

“Hey, Anja! Wait!”

Anja paused and waited for Gob to catch up with her. He came running up the hill from the center of town.

“What’s the hurry?” she asked when he finally reached her. He was panting hard to catch his breath. Working in a Saloon obviously wasn’t good for one’s health. Or maybe it was the ghoulification that had messed up his lungs. She had a suspicion of both. He inhaled deeply and grabbed her hands. Anja tried not to jerk, she honestly did, but she probably didn’t do a very good job. He let go if her instantly.

“Please. If you go to Underworld, if you make it there and decide to go inside. Please, can you give Carol a message from me? If she’s still alive and if she’s well. Can you please.. just tell her that I’m ok, and that I miss her very much.” He looked desperate, begging almost. 

“Gob, I don’t think I’ll be going-,”

He cut her off, shaking his head but still pleading. “I know. I won’t make you. But _if_ you decide to go anyway….” Something tugged at her chest, watching his grotesque face fall in a sadness so profound it was contagious. He was preparing himself for her refusal, knowing she never did favors without payment.

An unwelcome lump formed at the back of her throat. This time, she took his hands in hers and tried to sound reassuring. “If I go there, Gob, I swear I’ll look for Carol. Ok?”

“Thank you, thank you!” The gratefulness in his eyes engulfed her with even more sadness.

She swallowed and inhaled. “I have to leave now. And shouldn’t you be working? Moriarty might get mad.”

“I don’t care” the poor ghoul shook his head. “He beats me anyways, and as long as I can get a message through to Carol, it’ll be worth it.”

Anja left Megaton with that small lump stuck in her throat and feeling like she was venturing into Hell.

The echo in her mind was silent. It had been quiet since last night when she’d revealed to Jericho what her plan was.


	6. Chapter 6

**Through the Ruins**

 

Anja had travelled for a couple of days, mostly underground through the Metro tunnels. At first, she didn’t think it was all too bad-She encountered only a few raiders here and there and some ghouls scattered around. They proved to be no match at all as she crept towards them an assassinated them with her Chinese assault rifle.

She didn’t want to sleep in the tunnels though, so every night she headed up to the streets to see if she could find any decent locations to camp. The first night she’d gotten lucky and climbed up in one of the ruined old buildings. There, she found a part of the building that covered her from the road and sheltered her with some roof. It was an easily defendable location, and she market it on her map for later use. Content that the landmines she’d spread around the way up to her camp would alert her of intruders, she slept soundly that night.

The next night, however, she ran back inside the Metro almost immediately, ducking away from bullets and the swing of a nail board aiming for her head. Surprisingly, the mutants didn’t follow her down, and after she boarded up the door to one of the restrooms, she felt safe enough inside to rest a couple of hours. Not that she slept any good though. It was a stinky and damp restroom, and knowing that there were mutants stomping around just a few feet over her head, she slept with one hand at her shotgun.

On the third day, Anja was forced to leave the Metro. The tunnels had collapsed and blocked her way forward. It was both a relief and terrifying to leave. The Metro tunnels were smaller, and it was easier to gain control of her surroundings. If she could actually _see_ her surroundings, that is.

When suddenly she found herself hunched down behind a car wreck next to a block of ruined concrete, with mutants ahead, Anja didn’t feel like she had any control at all.

She slammed her assault rifle on the hood of the car and fired a few rounds, aiming for the mutant headed towards her with his sledgehammer raised above him, ready to give her a killing blow. Aiming at one of his hands, she fired several shots. It had the effect she hoped for. The mutant lost his grip on his weapon, and in the confusion, he gave her just enough time to start dealing shots at his skull. These bastards were so thick-headed that it took some time to get through. She nearly peeled off his face before he finally gargled and fell over dead.

Her eyes didn’t have time to study him, and she fixated them back to the other three mutants. They carried guns. She saw a hunting rifle and a minigun, and the last one…. Anja’s heart leapt and so did her body. Instantly, she threw herself away from the car and into the concrete ruins. She pushed herself between some crumbled walls and were able to crouch and cover her head the same moment the missile hit its target; the car. It exploded with an intensity that shook the ground and made the building next to her cringe in protest. Her heart pounded ferociously from the impact and her ears were ringing.

“Holy hell…” She gasped and crawled towards an opening further away. She had to move, better not stay in one place too long unless she wanted to be exploded into tiny bits and pieces.

When she came to the opening, she could hear the mutants talking, yelling for her to come out. Carefully she took a peek and withdrew quickly. It was enough, now she knew where they were. Counting her bullets, she frowned. Maybe she should just leg it and run. It would be a shame to survive this, having killed these mutants, only to meet four new ones in the next crossroad. Unless, she stole that missile launcher… Carefully, she peeked around the wall one more time.  

It could work. Maybe…

Without even looking again, Anja tore out the splinter of a grenade and threw it towards the mutants, and in the same motion, she rolled over with her assault rifle ready. Lying flat on the ground, she was aiming directly at them and started to fire the same moment the grenade went off. The blast that would have thrown a normal opponent back nearly affected them as much as she’d hoped it would. They were only confused for a second, but that one precious second was enough for Anja. She had already fired a couple of critical headshots.

They came running and started to respond with fire. Anja aimed for the Brute with the missile launcher, desperately trying to kill him before he was able to fire another missile in her direction. It felt like forever, and the others came closer. One bullet dug itself into her shoulder and another missed her head by an inch. She didn’t have the time to react. The Brute stumbled and his helmet came off. Hastily she rolled back into cover to reload, and then she rolled back again.

She kept shooting bullets at the Brute, who was now loading another missile into his launcher. She could tell that he was injured though, and this made her stay right in that spot.  He fell right before he was able to fire his weapon. She would’ve sighed in relief, but she still had two others to take care of. Rolling to safety, she grabbed her shotgun. They had gotten close. 

In the end, Anja was finally able to walk away with tree bullets in her body, but a missile launcher and lots of ammo richer. It felt good to have taken them down by herself. She gathered her stuff with some difficulties and headed for a place to heal her wounds. Hopefully not too far away.

Running through some ruined buildings, she noticed several dead mutants lying around. Curious, she stopped to examine one of the corpses. Most of the wounds weren’t holes from bullets. They were burnt.

“From laser rifles,” she mumbled to herself while she crouched over a mutant brute. She knew that The Brotherhood used laser weaponry and power armor. They collected and nurtured technology, and that was supposedly their main purpose here in DC. However, some rumors said that they also cared about the people in the area and did a remarkable job in the war against the mutants to take back the city. Anja frowned to herself and kept going, hauling her missile launcher along.

She couldn’t help but wonder if the Brotherhood might have some hidden intentions in saving DC from the mutants. Was there something in particular they wanted, or could it really be genuinely goodwill. Anja doubted it, as she was no believer of do-gooders. No, it had to be something they wanted, or needed.

Deep in thought, she wandered through and between the destroyed buildings and mutant corpses, until she rounded a corner and froze.

Her mouth fell slack open.

The monster was huge, enormous, ugly and terrifyingly deformed. It had the looks of some beast she’d only heard about. It had to be 20 feet tall, and its arms were armored with… car doors?

And it was dead.

Lying in the middle of a plaza, it was definitely dead. Blood had poured out of its nose, and there were several wounds in its body, burnt holes and charred flesh. The wounds looked like scratch marks on the enormous body, and she wondered what could possibly have killed it. Looking across the plaza, she spotted heavily armored people around the entrance of the building on the opposite side, and by the looks of how they stepped down the staircase, alerted and guns held up, they had also spotted _her_.

Anja had found the GNR Building.

“Hold it right there!”  Five sets of laser rifles were pointed at her. “State your business!” one of the Brotherhood men cried out. His voice had a metallic echo through the speaker of his helmet. She lowered the missile launcher from her good shoulder and placed it on the ground, before showing them her empty hands.

“Just passing through,” she cried back, her voice was a little hoarse and her throat felt dry. Also, the bullet wounds had started to drain her strength. She was bleeding badly. “I wondered if you’d let me rest a few hours, and then I’ll be on my way.”

One of the men, the one who had talked, gestured his hand for her to come closer. She picked up her ML and walked towards them, carefully sidestepping away of the dead Behemoth. Without lowering their guns or taking the aim off her, they gave her enough space to climb the stairs. When she finally reached the top, the man spoke again.

“You can stay a few hours, but you’ll have to leave your weapons out here.”

Reluctantly, Anja clutched her newly rewarded ML closer. “Why?”

“Can’t risk you shooting up the place, now can we? The deal is clear; if you go inside, your weapons stay here.” He pointed towards a gun locker behind their barricade of sandbags.

Anja knew she couldn’t go any further without tending to her wounds. She also knew that she could probably find somewhere else to rest if she just kept looking, but it was beginning to dusk, and she didn’t feel like dating any more mutants today. Especially not in the dark. With a sigh, she unarmed herself and placed her belongings in the locker. The Brotherhood men finally lowered their own weapons.

“Do you have a medic inside?” she asked and waited for the door to unlock.

“No, but you could ask one of the Initiates to give you a hand. We’re all proficient field medics.” She couldn’t see his face, but judging by the tilt of his helmeted head, he was assessing her bleeding wounds.

The GNR building wasn’t that interesting, Anja concluded after looking around a little. She’d patched herself up to the best of her abilities. The bullets hadn’t hit anything important and seemed like simple flesh-wounds in comparison to what she’d received in the past. She guessed she should be grateful that the mutants weren’t particularly good shooters. Truth was, really good shooters were rare and uncommon in general. Mostly, people would just fire randomly in the desired direction, hoping that at least _some_ bullets would hit the target. Mutants were no different. It was a simple style, but none the less very effective.

Her meeting with this Three Dog person had been more confusing than clarifying. He was annoyingly confident about his own importance in this world, and he kept praising and praising this Vault girl that had passed through here. Again, she couldn’t believe her ears when she heard that the young woman had helped him out by fixing the satellite dish that relayed his radio signal across the wasteland.

Sitting on the ground on the first floor, eating her can of soup and occasionally glaring towards the Brotherhood men, Anja couldn’t keep herself from wondering who this Vault girl was, and why she _helped_ everyone she met. It had to be something important she needed. When Anja asked the DJ about it, he just smiled and went back to his normal ‘Good Fight’ rant.

She scoffed while she ate. He’d even tried to talk her into joining. Yeah, _right_.

After she’d eaten, she tried to make herself comfortable on the makeshift bed that she’d made on the floor. While she loosely listened to the Brotherhood men talking amongst themselves, and the radio in the background, she found herself drift off into sleep. Anja welcomed it, knowing that she could sleep a little safer in this place than she’d been able to the last couple of nights. Still, safe or not, every sound made her eyes snap open, if only for a second.

...

 

She hunched down, carefully measuring her footsteps as silently as possible while she crept forward. The duffle-bag was just lying there, and even though the camp-site appeared to be abandoned, she couldn’t take any risks. She’d watched the place from a distance for a couple of hours, alerted by the burning barrel, thinking it might be raiders. But no one had been there during that time. It had to be abandoned. If so, it would be a shame to just leave the duffle-bag and its potential valuables behind, right?

Even though she was very careful with her steps, the darkness hid some empty bottles from her vision. Her left leg bumped into one, causing it to roll away a couple of feet and then fall down to the tracks. Startled, she froze. In comparison to the silence in the tunnel, the rattling bottle sounded like thunder, and she listened closely for signs that someone had heard it. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, but the darkness made it difficult to make out anything. The shadows played tricks on her, she knew that. It looked like something was moving, but it could be just her imagination. She waited for a long time, listening for footsteps, the wheezing sound of ghouls, dogs, anything, but heard nothing.

A little more confident, she started to move again, slowly sneaking towards the bag. Stretching out her arm and grabbing one of the hems, she pulled it towards her. 

It was heavy, but someone had packed it with care, because nothing inside it rattled or made any noise at all when Anja lifted it up and secured the shoulder-strap around her. With a quick look around, she returned towards the escalators. Didn’t want to stay in this place while she searched the bag. The owners might return. Walking as silently as possible, she made it up the escalators and headed for the station exit. Her heart was rushing out of mere excitement, and she smiled a little triumphantly to herself. All too soon, she realized, and paled when her over-confidence had made her feet yet again hit something that tumbled around and made echoing noises in the concrete hall. This time an empty tin can.

From behind her, downstairs, Anja could make out the distinct sound of running feet. Heavy, running feet! They made a metallic sound as they climbed the escalators, and with a shock she could hear that this person probably took three steps at the time. The exit was too far away for her to reach it, and without hesitation, she quickly and as silently as possible slipped through an open door on her right, only to find herself in a restroom. Pushing the door shut until nearly closing it, she backed away slowly, pulling her shotgun out and aiming it steadily towards the door. She could hear the running feet come closer, and then slow down into a walk.

It was almost pitch dark in the bathroom, and she didn’t dare to move around too much. After all, she had no idea what might be lying across the floor.

The walking outside halted, and Anja held her breath. For a moment, it seemed like they were listening for each other. She could hear her own heart pound in her ribcage like a prisoner ferociously banging on the bars of its confinement, and for a brief second, paralyzing fear struck her. Maybe he heard it too?!

When the feet resumed walking, away from the door, relief washed over her, and she exhaled. She heard the footsteps venture further towards the exit, and eventually the sound of a tunnel door opening and then closing. Waiting a little longer, just to be sure, she carefully moved towards the restroom door. She knew she couldn’t go out the same exit at her follower had. She needed to find another way, maybe through the exit opposite of this one.

Opening the door wide and quickly stepping away from it, she held her shotgun ready.

Nothing. Not a sound, no movement. Nothing. Still, she walked through the door with her aim positioned towards the tunnel exit, in case it was a trap. Relieved that it was empty, she holstered the weapon and jogged away, towards the other exit, this time in a hurry. Unless her follower was a complete idiot, he or she (she was guessing it had to be a ‘he’, from the sound of the heavy feet) would soon realize that she hadn’t gone that way, and then eventually he’d come back to look for her here. She hurried across the second floor of the station and into the parallel corridor. The exit sign blinked in a promising way, and without hesitation, Anja opened the barred gate and door.

_Chun- Chung!_

The barrel of a combat shotgun was cocked and aimed straight at her forehead. Anja froze, eyes following the barrel, _upwards_. It seemed to go on forever. Either that or her brain went into slow-motion mode. She was unaware that her mouth hung open in shock. Her eyes traced the barrel and finally found the weapon's master. She squinted to focus, cursing herself for running from pitch darkness and out into daylight like that. The weapon belonged to someone big. Someone really fucking huge! He was wearing a worn sheriff’s hat made of black leather, and when her eyes finally adjusted to the light, his face came into vision.

Instinctively, Anja recoiled backwards, only to have herself glued against the metro tunnel gate. The man, no correction; the fucking ghoul beast of a man, followed the motion by stepping closer slightly.

He stared down at her, anger practically glowing off him. Even though her heart was racing and fear desperately tried to overpower her, Anja glared back at him.

“Thief,” he accused, growling, still holding his shotgun ready to blast her into space. It was a rough and definitely ghoul voice, the growling tone to it emphasized by the fact that he was clenching his teeth. His eyes had a hazed grayness to them, like fog, and they were narrowed towards her. He was… frightening…

“No! No, not thief,” Anja bit back. She held her hands upwards in defeat, but kept staring at him like a stubborn child.

“My bag,” his eyes trailed towards the strap around her shoulder before returning to her face once more. “Give it back.” It was a demand, not a question. He was even able to hold the shotgun in one hand, while he reached out the other towards her, expecting her to hand over the bag.

Anger fueled her. “I didn’t steal it! It had been lying there for hours. If you cared about it, why leave it behind?” 

“None of your business. I'm back now, and I want my bag.”

The seconds ticked by. Anja didn’t move, and neither did he. It was a staring competition, and none of them were willing to back down, both waiting for the other to make a move. She measured the distance between his shotgun and herself. If she stepped forward just a little, she could reach it and pull it from his grasp, or just simply push its aim up and away from her. How the scene would play out if she did, however, she had no idea. It didn’t look like it would end in her favor either way. His mere size hinted to a kind of physical strength Anja would never be able to match.

She swallowed. “Finder’s fee?”

He didn’t respond. She hadn’t really expected him to either. The joke wasn’t funny. He simply motioned with his fingers on the outstretched hand to hand the bag over. His head was tilted with his chin slightly downwards so that his hat shadowed his eyes from the sun. It also gave him a menacing, glaring look. His leather armor was of the expensive kind and his shotgun well kept. He couldn’t possibly be a common roamer.

The weight of the duffle bag intensified on her shoulder. Its content could be equally valuable, if this ghoul’s appearance was any indicator.

“I _will_ take it back,” he threatened, clearly losing his patience. “How I do that, is up to you.”

Sighing with a sniff in a mixture of obstinacy and defeat, Anja finally moved one of her raised hands to the strap that held the bag in place, and quickly opened the clasp. If fell with a heavy thump to the ground. The ghoul’s eyes flickered towards it, before they quickly settled back to her face. She hadn’t removed her gaze from him for one second.

Bending his knees and reaching forward to grab his bag, he didn’t remove the shotgun or took his eyes off her. Once he had pulled the bag to him, he rose back to his full height and gave her a tiny nod. Anja couldn’t tell if it was a nod of appreciation or a nod of approval that they were on the same page.

He spoke while he stepped away, still aiming at her, with his bag in his free hand. “Don’t steal again. _Ever_.”

Anja had no desire to respond, but understood the threat perfectly well; she was lucky to be alive. Watching him leave, she finally lowered her hands and pulled out her chinese assault rifle. When she slipped back inside the Metro tunnel, she took a moment to gather herself from shaking and get her panicked breathing under control.

“Fuckling ghouls….” Her voice was merely a breathy whisper.

**…**

 

Charon was livid.

The first time me meets his soulmate, and it’s with her being on the business end of his shotgun. Great. Fucking great introduction. He clenched and unclenched his free hand, walking back to Underworld with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

Fine, she was there, in the DC ruins he had so vigorously tried to keep her away from. That was fine. She was a good shot and very much able to take care of herself. But stealing… That was a hard pill to swallow. She’d never stolen something before. Not to his knowledge anyhow.

Charon had watched her while she’d trekked through the tunnels and the ruins. Looked in on her every now and then to see how she was doing. And then Ahzrukhal had sent him out on an errand, and Charon had recognized his soulmate’s position enough to know that they’d cross paths. He’d waited for her, not to meet her, but to see her. Observe her from a distance.

It was spying, and it was creepy, and he knew that. But having her so close, after 20 years… He couldn’t resist. But then she never showed where he estimated she’d be, and he grew worried, reaching into the bond to see what she was doing. And then he’d hurried back to his camp.

She was quiet. Agile, like he'd always suspected. He had listened for her, knowing that she was hiding on the other side of the restroom door. Tuning in on her, he had felt her hammering heartbeats and seen that she was armed. He had known that if he walked into that room, she would blast his head off. So, he had lured her out instead.

It had been a long time since he’d seen her face. His soulmate wasn’t very concerned about her looks, and she rarely looked in the mirror. In her teens, she’d been like most teenagers, curious about herself and what her appearance could do for her. Especially when that pimp of a barkeeper in Megaton began feeding her compliments. But she was quickly disenchanted. Nowadays, all Charon could catch were short glimpses of her when her eyes moved over something that showed her reflection.

Meeting her face to face was a shock. He’d known she was small, because she had always felt… nimble, to him. Although it didn’t take much for Charon to perceive someone as small, given he towered almost 80 inches above ground himself. But this human he was bonded to… The top of her head didn’t even reach to his shoulders.

Her eyes were a deep earthly green. A startling type of green that had caught the sun when she squinted up at him, spots of amber reflecting the sunlight. Her thick and brown hair was cut to shoulder length, something she’d learn to do as a precaution after an incident with raiders. If someone wanted to try and grab her by the hair, they’d had to come within kicking distance first. When the sun hit it, it reflected a shine of auburn. Her face was pretty, albeit a scar marred the side of her cheek, but otherwise pretty. It didn’t surprise him at all that Moriarty wanted to keep her as a plaything.

Clenching his teeth, he opened the gates to Underworld, ignoring the tiny nods in greeting he received from the other inhabitants. Charon didn’t mingle with them, never had, never wanted to.

It had been years since Charon had reflected upon his own personality, and he wasn’t sure he even had one anymore. He had morals, he knew that. Those deeply rooted tugs of regret and disgust when he was ordered to do gruesome things. He had a sense of justice, recognizing unfairness when he saw it. Sometimes he wondered if those feelings of right and wrong were a part of his personality, or if they were at odds with what he had been originally trained for. He couldn’t remember much from his training, and he’d had plenty of time to ponder on the nature of his contract. What had his purpose been? He had skills equal to an elite soldier, but he was also a proficient tracker, and he was a fierce bodyguard. Had he been an assassin? A mercenary? Charon had long ago come to peace with the fact that he’d never know the answer to any of those questions. None of it mattered anymore.

Nevertheless, with all the unanswered questions and doubts regarding his own personality, he still caught himself wondering if his soulmate would accept him, if she ever learned about their bond. A part of him realized he wanted her to be comfortable with him. He wanted to prove that a good man was hiding underneath all these scars, and all that violence and menace, even if he wasn’t entirely sure he believed that himself. But those thoughts were dangerous, treacherous even. He couldn’t allow himself to indulge in such fantasies. They were distracting at best, devastating at worst. Besides, if someone else learned about their bond, they might try and use it to get to him. To hurt him. Ahzrukhal was a mean son of a bitch, but he knew very well that violence on his part would invalidate the contract. The contract, however, failed to mention anything about violence towards Charon’s soulmate.

No, he reminded himself as he tossed the bag of caps and chems to Ahzrukhal and resumed his position in the corner of the bar. It was better this way, for both of them. At least for the time being.

Shifting his attention to the bar, he noticed they had a visitor. A smoothskin female that looked startling young and unscarred. Vault dweller? Charon adjusted his face into the stoic expression he always wore while he worked, listening to the Vault kid while she talked with Ahzrukhal.

  **…**

Days passed by uneventful. Charon stood in his usual corner, eyes looking, ears listening, mind wandering. The Vault kid had left Underworld again, but only after she’d probed and pried her way through the entire city with her small favors and radiant smiles. Everyone talked about her now.

Charon didn’t care. Ahzrukhal didn’t care, so neither did he. She was just another smoothskin with too much ambition and too little skills. She had tried to talk to him, Charon, but he blew her off just like he did to everyone else. Then she had talked with Ahzrukhal for quite some time, and they had been quiet about it too. Charon had noticed his employer looked startled, then angered, then sly and smug when she left.

This evening was promising to be just as tedious and uninteresting as the earlier ones. It was a busy night though, several customers enjoying their drinks and chems far too much and already showing the signs that would have Ahzrukhal beckon Charon over to take care of them. He hadn’t checked in on his soulmate yet this day, wanting to save those moments for himself when he was alone and less disturbed by others. Although she was usually fast asleep by the time he got around to try and reach out for her.

Two ghouls sat at the table right next to him. One of them was talking about a smoothskin. Charon didn’t listen for details, assuming it was the famous Vault dweller everyone kept talking about. Even if he wasn’t interested in their conversation, fractions of it still found its way to his ears. _Young, pretty, scared._ They chuckled at that. Most ghouls in Underworld were wary of smoothskin strangers, tired and fed up with their bigotry. But some also found great amusement in deliberately scaring them. Charon also picked up something about the smoothskin looking for Carol.

His vision caught movement at the bar, and his eyes shifted there to look. His employer was snapping his fingers and pointing to a ghoul sitting on a stool at the bar. Although, drooling all over it fast asleep was a more accurate description. Ahzrukhal didn’t have to say anything. Charon knew what to do, and immediately made his way over to the bar. The people gave him room to pass them, like a hulking deathclaw hunting its prey. He stopped behind the snoring ghoul, one of his hands coming down hard on the backside of the ghoul’s collar. The ghoul startled awake when Charon roughly pulled him off the stool an onto his feet.

“What the..?” he blinked, eyes hazier than normal and his breath stinking of booze. Charon began pushing him towards the exit, holding tightly onto his collar and leading him in front of himself. The ghoul’s feet sluggishly tried to keep up, but mostly he was just hanging in the air and brushing his toes against the floor. He began to complain. “Hey, come on! Not doin’ anything wrong, you guys.”

“Go home,” Charon growled and pushed the ghoul face first into the swinging doors. He had intended to throw the ghoul out, to make a spectacle enough of it to warn the other patrons to stay on their own feet. It was how Ahzrukhal liked it. But the ghoul didn’t crash through the swinging doors like Charon thought he would. Instead, he crashed into it, and it budged just a little, meeting resistance on the other side. The half-asleep ghoul complained loudly, and his hands flew to what was left of his nose. A crash and a series of curses came from the other side of the door.

Charon frowned and pulled the door open with his free hand, preparing a hard scowl for whoever was on the other side. A female figure had fallen backwards, obviously thrown back by the force of the door slamming into her, and she’d stumbled into a barrel and fallen over a chair, her feet in the air over the chair and her back on the floor. Charon glanced at the drunk ghoul in his grip, seeing an opportunity, and then he threw the ghoul forwards. The ghoul yelped and stumbled to fall over the chair as well, landing on top of the female figure.

“Ouch! What the fuck? Get off me!” she cursed and kicked the ghoul away.

“S-sorry,” she ghoul slurred and rolled off her.

Charon watched in a mixture of worry and humor. He tried not to hurt the patrons too much, but he did enjoy making a fool out of them whenever he kicked them out. He still watched as the ghoul clambered clumsily back onto his feet, and the female kicked the chair away from under her legs, propping herself up on her elbows. Her flushed and angry face came into vision, and Charon found himself freeze as a horrible chill crept down his backside.

“ _You_ …?” He couldn’t help the startled and angry growl escape him.

His soulmate threw one glance at him, and then visibly paled. “Oh, hell no! No way.” She kicked herself backwards when Charon stepped through the door to her side of it, closing it behind him and holding it tightly shut. Scrambling to her feet and finding her balance, she limped away to create some more distance. Charon didn’t follow, standing still by the door, feeling it push and pull in his hand when someone tried to open it. Ahzrukhal, no doubt. To check what was going on. 

“Leave,” he rumbled between closed teeth, silently, hoping no one else but her could hear him.

“Gladly,” she spat back, limping away from him.

Behind him, Charon heard Ahzrukhal curse and order him to open the door. Still staring at the retreating woman, he stepped aside, allowing the door to open. His employer glared at him, but then he followed his gaze to the smoothskin woman. His nonexistent eyebrows rose in question.

They both watched as the woman disappeared through the doorway to the main hall. Once she was out of sight, Ahzrukhal turned to look at Charon. “Awfully lot of smoothskins around lately, huh?”

Charon shrugged, looking as stoic and impassive as he always did.

Ahzrukhal narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You scaring off potential customers, Charon?”

“Yes.” Inwardly, he cursed and roared. If his employer asked him a question, he couldn’t lie. _Don’t ask_ , he wanted to say. But he didn’t. He remained cold and calm, knowing it was the only way she might make it out of there at all. His mind reached into the bond and urged her to leave. Run as fast as she could and never return.

Ahzrukhal was scowling at him. “Why?”

“She’s a thief. But she won’t be back.”

His employer was silent a few very long seconds, and then he barked a laugh. Turning them both around, he patted Charon’s shoulder in mock camaraderie. “You never seize to surprise me, Charon. I wouldn’t have thought you’d care to protect my valuables. A good employee you are, very good indeed.”

Charon followed his employer back inside the Ninth Circle without a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad for leaving Anja in the dark about her relationship with Charon, but trust me, she won't be for long XD


	7. Chapter 7

**Revelations**

 

It had taken Anja three days to get from Underworld to Rivet City. Visiting the ghoul underground city had been a tough decision, but one she ultimately made because she needed to resupply. She had also managed to deliver the message from Gob to Carol, and that small little favor made her feel oddly warm inside. Carol was so happy and relieved to hear word from Gob, it made Anja hold back the information regarding Gob’s rather unhealthy working conditions. She had intended to spend the night in Underworld, but then she had another run-in with that horrible beast ghoul, and immediately decided against it.

Instead, she stayed in Rivet City for a few days, familiarizing herself with the ship and its luxuries. The missile launcher earned her a good deal of caps. Anja had no more use for the thing, and it was way too heavy for her liking anyway.

The Common room was decent enough. Although it had no privacy, the beds were comfortable and the footlockers functional. She didn’t speak much with the other residents there, except for Mei Wong. That woman scrutinized everyone who walked into the city, so eventually Anja snapped at her. Sort of. After the confrontation, Anja grinned inwardly while she offered to give the woman one of her spare guns. She hoped the woman used it well.

Three Dog kept talking in the radio about the Vault kid. And so did people in Rivet City. Apparently, she was looking for her missing father, and even though her search was urgent, her trail of good deeds was easy to follow. One kid in particular seemed to think she was the ‘awesomest’ woman alive. His nickname for her was BugSquasher.

A newly married couple also talked about her good-hearted nature. They just talked and talked about how the girl had helped them overcome their fears and declare their love to each other.

Anja grew tired of the place very quickly.

The worst thing about Rivet City though, was that she hadn’t found anyone she’d like to hire as her extra gun. Everyone was busy or already employed. Also, everything about Rivet City felt _wrong_.

Deciding to travel into the ruins; that had felt right. Trekking through the actual ruins had also felt right. Stealing some scary random stranger’s duffle bag had felt right. Even visiting Underworld had _felt right_! But after that, there was a deep and urgent feeling of wrong. This place was wrong, the people were wrong, she was somewhere she shouldn’t be. And to make it worse; the echo wasn’t at fault this time. It was unnervingly quiet.

Lying on bed in the Common room, on her back with one foot draped over one knee and reading a pre-war magazine, Anja had already decided she was leaving the next morning. This place wasn’t what she had expected, and she didn’t want to stay.

 _“You are awake,”_ a deep and rough voice commented, startling Anja slightly. She put the magazine down and looked around the room. The _empty_ room.

 _“Don’t panic,”_ the voice said.

Anja bolted off the bed quickly like a gunshot, staring wildly around. “Who is that? Show yourself!”

 _“I’m not there with you. We’re speaking through our bond.”_ The response was slow and hesitant, and it made Anja’s heart beat even wilder in her chest. This was it. She’d finally gone insane.

“No, no!” she hurried over to the lockers in the room, tearing them open, searching for whomever the voice belonged to. “No,” she repeated, and then lowered herself to look under the beds. “Where are you!” She squinted into the ventilation shaft, following it with her eyes.

 _“Calm down,”_ the voice rasped.

Anja suddenly felt a wave of feelings crush down on her, calm and reassuring feelings. It was like the echo, but a thousand times more potent. She exhaled and clutched the sides of her head, whimpering. “This isn’t happening. This. Is _not_. Happening.”

**…**

 

Charon paced back and forth on the top floor of the ruined building, watching the skyline of the Capital city as it darkened after sunset. His new employer was busy heating a couple of cans of food over the small fireplace she’d made, and she’d tried to beckon him to join her, but he found it hard to stay still. As long as she hadn’t given him an order to do otherwise, he’d pace as much as he damn pleased.

 _Should have known_ , he scolded himself, clenching and flexing his hands. Should’ve known she’d be terrified. He should have known his soulmate was going to come completely undone when he revealed himself to her like that. Speaking to her, through their bond like that? _Of course,_ she was going to think she’d gone crazy.

His employer was mumbling behind him, and he paused to give her a look. Funny, out of all the people he’d met and was ever likely to meet, he had managed to find himself in the company of another soulmate.

But his employer’s soulmate was far away. _Very_ far away, in fact.

He’d noticed early. The way her eyes turned distant, as if she was looking at something invisible. The way she had hushed conversations with herself after dark, thinking that Caron couldn’t hear her. The way she suddenly smiled or hid a chuckle behind her hand. It was obvious she was on good terms with her mate.

Groaning inwardly, Charon turned to resume his pacing.

“Charon,” the woman behind him said, her voice soft and thick with empathy. She had poked and probed at him relentlessly for hours until he’d told her about his soulmate, and she’d been the one to suggest he spoke to her. “I’m so sorry,” she continued.

He stopped his pacing and looked at her, shaking his head slightly. “Not your fault.”

After she had returned to Underworld a second time, she had marched into the Ninth Circle and slammed a large sack of caps on the counter for Ahzrukhal. Her pretty and unscarred face had been set in determination. There was just something about her, this Vault kid. Something honest, something that had him instantly know she was a genuinely _good_ person. But she wasn’t a kid. Not really. She was a young woman, resourceful and clever, and she had a wicked talent with computers _and_ people.

“I can’t help but feel responsible,” she insisted. “Have you tried again tonight?”

He huffed in exasperation and shook his head another time, finally coming over to the fire. He sat down across the fire from her and unshouldered his shotgun, placing it on the ground next to himself. “There is no point in upsetting her further.”

“Try,” she urged, giving him a small tilt of her head. “But, take it gentle. You’ve had 20 years to come to terms with this. She’s only had 2 days.”

Charon narrowed his eyes, but did what she ordered none the less. It was easy, to reach through the bond between him and his soulmate. It didn’t even take him a second to tune in on her, and when her vision filled his, he almost held his breath.

She was running. He could feel her heart pound heavily in her chest, and her feet were moving fast and loudly. He saw tunnels, darkness around her, something heavy on her back slowed her down. She was exhausted, her usually agile movements a little more sloppy and jagged than they should be. Charon didn’t say anything to her. Didn’t want to startle her. He couldn’t tell what she was running from, but the anxiety she was struggling to keep under control made him understand it had to be something bad.

She came to a station, and her running slowed. Panting, she hauled herself up the escalators, stumbling towards the metro exit. But she didn’t go for the exit. Instead, she threw several landmines out, littering the hallway with them, and then she slipped into a restroom, slamming the door shut. She collapsed over then, shaking and breathing hard to regain control over herself.

She wasn’t being followed.

It took her some time to calm down, but when she did, she unclasped her backpack and sat down on the floor, her back to the door. Lifting her knees, her arms hugged them close, cradling herself in a way Charon wasn’t sure he’d seen her do before. Something very painful and difficult was working its way through her emotions, something terrifying that had her swallow hard not to scream.

“Anja…” he said carefully, instinctively trying to give her comfort.

His soulmate flinched and put her hands over her ears, screaming. _“LEAVE ME ALONE!”_ And then she cried. A pained and scared and completely devastated kind of cry. _“I’m going insane,”_ she whispered in between the sobs wrecking her breaths.

Charon slowly withdrew from the bond, just then realizing he was cradling himself the same way she was. He uncurled and lifted his head to meet the gaze of his employer, frowning at her.

“She is going to get herself killed.” His voice was certain.

His employer nodded that she understood, a frown on her forehead matching his own. “Then we’ll go find her. I’ll help you in any way I can.”

**…**

 

Anja wasn’t sure what was real anymore. She kept running through the DC ruins, even though she knew it was an irrational thing to do. You can’t run from your own imagination, right? But still, she kept moving, kept going no matter how tired she was. Ignoring hunger, she only allowed herself a few sips of water whenever she stopped to take a breather. She fired wildly at everything that moved, killing a few ghouls and mutants, but also just shooting at shadows.

In desperation, she huffed jet and shot up with psycho, welcoming the blissful feeling when she realized it muted the voice that kept talking to her. That voice that kept saying to her she needed to slow down, she needed to stop. It tried ordering her to stop, but Anja wasn’t a fool and knew it was just a trick. So, she did the very opposite. The chems helped her tune out the emotions that kept rushing into her. If shifted between worry, reassurance, fear and white rage. She didn’t care - it all came from her anyway.

The voice kept telling her to find a map, to orient herself of her surroundings. But Anja had thrown her map away and was stumbling through the ruins using her mental map only. She knew it was bound to happen, that she’d lose her way, but at this point that didn’t matter either.

It wasn’t until she collapsed out of mere exhaustion, five days after the voice had first spoken to her, that Anja took a moment to collect her thoughts. She was shaking hard from withdrawal of all the chems she’d taken, she was cold and sweating, bloody, and in pain. Crawling into a ruined building, squeezing herself as far into the rubble she could get, she curled up and rested her cheek on the ground. Her body refused to carry her any longer.

 _“Where are you?”_ the voice asked. It sounded like a command, harsh and intimidating. Anja shrunk further into herself and closed her eyes hard.

“Go away,” she repeated, probably for the thousandth time. Fumbling her belt, she pulled her 10mm pistol out. Her shaking hands loaded it, and she sniffed away some snot dripping from her nose. She hadn’t been aware that she was crying.

 _“No, stop,”_ the voice barked, a slightly panicked feeling trickled into her. “ _Please. Put the gun away.”_

Anja suddenly felt something touch her armed hand, something warm and big that felt oddly like someone else’s hand. Startled, she opened her eyes and stared at her armed hand, eyes wide in disbelief while the invisible hand grasped hers and gently pulled her gun away from her temple. Trembling hard, she recoiled in horror, dropping the gun altogether. It clacked against the concrete floor, while she scooted further into the rubble.

 _“Tell me where you are,”_ the voice repeated, softer this time. _“You have nothing to fear.”_ Calm and reassuring feelings engulfed her, just like the echo, but stronger and more intrusive. Anja whimpered and fought against it, knowing it was her mind playing dirty with her again.

Her shaking continued, the withdrawal growing more severe as more time passed. She had run out of chems the day before, and she knew this could be potentially fatal. Welcoming the darkness, her eyes lazily scanned the surroundings outside of the collapsed building, catching a glimpse of a destroyed old street sign. Finally closing her eyes, she relaxed into the numbness as it took her over, and she succumbed to unconsciousness.

**…**

 

Charon had remained stationary for three days, waiting for a sign of where his soulmate was. He didn’t dare more, out of fear he’d accidentally move the wrong way. Of what he saw of her surroundings, she was still in the DC. And many years in Ahzrukhal’s service had given him extensive knowledge of the city. He knew it almost as good as the back of his hand now.

Watching and feeling her panic was torture, but he forced himself to stay as impassive as he could. Something he also had extensive knowledge of. He watched, day and night, never leaving her vision for a second. She was blindly rushing forward, not looking at anything that could reveal to him where she was.

When she finally collapsed, he almost exhaled in relief. He knew she could still be in mortal danger, but at least it meant she wasn’t able to run anymore. But then she pulled her gun out, and he couldn’t breathe.

There was not a single shred of doubt in her mind about her intentions. Charon felt that as clear as day. But still, he spoke to her, and then he attempted something his employer had told him about. He tried to touch her, to reach through their bond and gently make her lower the gun. It didn’t have the effect he’d hoped for, but at lest she dropped the gun. It was all that mattered.

And then she passed out. Charon had almost missed it, the short glimpse of a street sign just when her eyes fluttered close. He grabbed his shotgun and rose, startling his employer awake. The Vault girl scrambled to sit upright in her sleeping bag, staring at him.

“You’ve found her,” she stated, observing the expression on his face.

Charon offered a nod. “She might be dying.”

His employer scooted out of her sleeping bag, jumped to her feet and quickly began stuffing her things into her duffle bag. “Then we better hurry.”

**…**

 

Anja knew she was drifting in and out of unconsciousness, but she didn’t bother to struggle and stay awake. She felt herself move roughly one time, but the hard jerk only had her eyelids flutter a little, and she slipped back into the blissful darkness. She threw up once as well, the withdrawal slowly killing her every cell and nerve. She didn’t care, and at this point it was probably too late anyways.

Her body felt strange and far away, and she had funky dreams about seeing herself from above. It was as if she was looking down at herself from the outside. She brushed hair away from her own forehead, but her hand looked wrong, large, and scarred. and all the could feel was a deep and numbing pain at how pathetic she looked; pale, malnourished, sweaty and broken.

Anja pulled herself away from the vision, startling herself into a gasp that sounded rough and strange, and… male? No, that wasn’t right. She was delirious, and she knew it. She was mentally ill, and she knew that as well.

But then slowly her body came back to her. She began feeling her own chest rise and sink by each struggling breath she took, and she began to recognize the way her weight rested in something that wasn’t quite soft, but softer than concrete. She wiggled her toes, realizing her shoes were missing.

Startled, her eyes flew open.

A woman sat next her, poking a small fire with a stick. She was young. When she saw that Anja was awake, she put the stick down and scooted closer. Her smile was gentle and soft.

“Hello there. Here, drink some water,” she crooned, uncapping a bottle of purified water, holding it to Anja’s lips and tipping it slowly. Anja drank several mouthfuls before the woman took the bottle away again.

Anja noticed her eyes were dark brown and had a warm shine. Her black hair was pulled into an unruly ponytail. Her face was smooth and pretty, unscarred. She had distinct Hispanic features.

“My name is Leena,” the woman introduced herself. “You’ve been swaying in and out of death’s grasp for almost two days now. You’re lucky I was carrying something to cleanse those chems out of your system.”

Anja frowned. “Lucky?” Her voice was hoarse and breaking miserably.

“Yes,” the woman, Leena smiled. “I mean, my friend here didn’t want to risk carrying you all the way to Rivet City, so we opted for treating you here. I have medical training.” While she spoke, she gestured towards a person Anja hadn’t noticed yet.

It was a large figure sitting next to the fire, looking at her from under the brim of his hat. Anja recognized him immediately, and a jolt of dread instantly surged through her. She inhaled hard and tried to sit up, to scoot away from him.

“No, no, don’t be alarmed.” Leena’s gentle expression changed to worry, and she quickly laid a hand on Anja’s chest, making soothing hushing sounds. “Charon here is a _friend_ , okay? He won’t hurt you, ever.”

The giant ghoul’s eyes moved away from Anja, his face turning, redirecting his attention to the fire. He grabbed a wooden spoon and quietly began stirring in a cooking pot sitting on the fire. Anja calmed a little and looked back at the woman.

She was smiling again. “We’re heating some food. Pork ‘n beans, if you’d like some. It’ll do you good.”

“Why are you doing this?” Anja managed to will her sore throat to rasp, glancing between the delicate woman and her beastly companion.

Leena’s eyebrows rose. “Why wouldn’t we? You were dying and in need of help. Now just relax. The food is ready soon. You need to gather your strength.”

Anja laid back down on the sleeping bag. Wary about closing her eyes around these two strangers, she turned to lay on her side, feeling the heat from the fire against her front. Leena leaned back, using her duffle bag as a backrest while she fiddled with the pip-boy on her arm. The green gleam coming from the screen illuminated her face. The ghoul didn’t look at Anja, his attention focused on the pot he was stirring. A mean-looking combat shotgun laid on the ground next to him.

**…**

 

She ate the food they gave her, warily eyeing both the woman and the ghoul. The ghoul mostly ignored her, but the woman was all over her. She made sure Anja ate enough, that she drank enough water, that she didn’t throw up on the sleeping bag. She offered a supportive hand when Anja stumbled away from the campsite to go in a private errand, and she gave her a spare toothbrush to cleanse her teeth.

Anja didn’t say much to them, not sure what to think about their rescue. They had interfered with her death, and she wasn’t sure if she was grateful for it, or if she hated them deeply.

But at least the voice was gone. Quiet now, in the company of Leena and her companion. And that was something Anja could appreciate. So, she stayed with them during the two days she recovered, catching up on some much-needed sleep.

By the third night, Leena began talking about travelling. About someone she needed to find, and she offered Anja to travel with them. She even offered to pay Anja for her services. Anja huffed in dissatisfaction, suddenly realizing she had a debt now. She owed these two strangers her life. Her scowl must have been too visible, because she noticed the ghoul was looking at her from the corner of his eye. He was heating food over the fireplace again.

The large beast had barely spoken a word during the two days of her recovery, but he kept scrutinizing Anja from a distance. It made her skin crawl, it made her flinch every time he moved, their first encounter still fresh in her mind. Leena called him friend, but he didn’t seem like the type to even have friends. Maybe Leena had done something for him as well, Anja wondered.

“Where are you going?” Anja asked, turning her attention to Leena and pretending she didn’t see the ghoul and that she didn’t know he was watching.

“West. I’ve heard my father went that way, to some Vault, and I need to find him.”

Anja raised an eyebrow. “Wait. You’re that Vault kid from 101? The one Three Dog keeps talking about?”

Leena shrugged, blushing delicately and a little sheepishly, taking the plate of food the ghoul handed her and passing it on to Anja. “I wish he’d stopped doing that. I’m just a nobody doing my best to figure out my place in this wasteland.”

“But you’re not though, are you?” Anja interjected slowly, accepting the plate of food and looking down at it. Pork ‘n beans again. And again, it was a large portion. Her eyes trailed to the ghoul sitting a little further away from them. “You know I can’t eat all this, right? Why waste it?” she said to him.

The ghoul solidified and looked back at her, his hazy gray eyes meeting hers for several heartbeats. Anja suddenly realized it was she first time she’d addressed him directly during these days, and a small and guilty conscience poked her abdomen. But then he narrowed his gaze and allowed it to trail over her figure, saying nothing in response as he continued to fill another plate with food.

Leena took the second plate when he handed it to her, scooping up a mouthful with her spoon almost immediately. “Almost dying takes its toll on the body,” she said to Anja with a soft voice. “And it’s not a waste. We have more than enough food.”

“I’ll pay you back for it,” Anja retorted slowly, digging into her own food.

Leena chuckled. “Nah, there’s no need.”

They continued their evening meal in silence.

**…**

 

Charon walked a little ahead of the two women; his employer and his soulmate. He had his shotgun in one hand, barrel resting up over his shoulder lazily, but still loaded and ready. Several grenades were fastened to his belt, and he had a couple of landmines as well. He surveyed their surroundings as they trekked through the ruins, checking for sings of danger. They had already taken out a small pack of ferals and a group of raiders.

His employer had her 44-magnum revolver tucked in the holster on her hip. It didn’t look like much, but the little thing packed one hell of a punch, and she was a good shot. Slow, but with the aim of a sniper.

His soulmate, however, was carrying her Chinese assault rifle strapped to her back, and her 10mm pistol at her hip. She was equally good with both, but the assault rifle was heavy to carry around leveled, and her arms would grow tired and sloppy if she tried.

They balanced over the rubble and still crumbling debris, following a trail that very few people knew about. They’d be out of the city by nightfall if they stuck to this route.

His soulmate had agreed to come with them, for a time at least. She’d said she might go back to Megaton, or perhaps roam on her own for a bit while she figured some things out. It had him set his jaw tight and his hands clench. He hadn’t tried to speak to her through the bond after she’d woken from her exhausted coma, didn’t want to scare her again. But he had checked in on her emotional state on a couple of occasions. She appeared to be back to her usual self; distrustful and cold.

He knew it was partially his own fault she’d turned out this way. It was 20 years of his continued warnings as discreet emotional influence that had her look at every stranger with critical eyes. But now that he found himself being in the spotlight of her distrust, the whole thing gave him a bitter taste.

They had traveled for a few hours already; the sun was in the middle of the sky. Charon stopped at the end of a ruined building, peeking around the corner. Even if he was under the command of his employer, he took the lead. It was his nature, in his training, and he couldn’t break out of it even if he wanted. No matter how much he’d like to slow his strides to match the ones from his soulmate, to just walk beside her in silence, he was drawn to the front of the progression. He listened with half an ear to the women’s hushed conversation while he stalked forward to scout the open plaza around the corner.

“…so I followed him out of the Vault,” Leena’s voice said quietly while she followed Charon with careful steps. “I have so many questions for him.”

He couldn’t hear the word’s in his soulmate’s reply. But it was short and clipped.

“Yeah,” Leena chuckled. “How ‘bout you, Anja? Are your parents still alive?”

There was a pause of silence from his soulmate, he felt his skin crawl, and then he heard it. A click from a gun being cocked, loaded.

“How do you know my name?!”

He instantly backtracked, checking the situation.

**…**

 

She’d been walking beside Leena, hearing her story of how and why she left the safety of the Vault. And then Leena’s question threw her off balance for a second. It was just a second, but to Anja it felt longer. She stopped, staring at the black-haired woman in shock, and then she reached for her gun.

Leena heard the gun load, heard the telltale click. Alarmed, she turned to look, and found herself dead center in Anja’s aim. Anja glared daggers at the Vault girl.

“How do you know my name?!” she snarled. She hadn’t given them her name. They hadn’t asked for it.

Leena opened and closed her mouth several times, staring at the gun. “How do I..? You- what?”

“ _Oohmph_!” Something hard crashed into Anja.

The ghoul’s movements were quick. He roughly grabbed the wrist of her armed hand with one hand, the front of her jacket with the other. Everything happened so fast, Anja barely registered it. The next second, she was brutally slammed backwards and into a concrete wall. The impact crushed all air from her lungs painfully. He lifted her by the grip on her jacket, effortlessly bringing her up to his eye-level. He bashed her armed hand a couple of times against the hard surface of the wall, trying to make her loose her grip on her weapon. When that failed, he stilled and glared at her.

Anja felt like she was choking, even though the ghoul wasn’t anywhere near her throat. She kicked his shins and tried to use her own free hand to release his hold on her, but he didn’t budge. Underneath the rough texture of his leather armor, she could feel the rock-hard muscles on his arm. His eyes were cold with fury.

“Drop it,” he growled, the vibration of his rough voice trickling into her and down her spine. His hand tightened around her wrist slowly, painfully, until the pain brought a grimace to her face. His frown deepened. “Drop it now, or I _will_ break your arm.”

She had no doubt he meant it, and Anja finally let go of her gun. It fell from her stiff fingers and hit the ground. The ghoul was still glaring at her, motionless, holding her still.

Leena had been staring in shock, mouth hung open, but when the gun hit the ground, she blinked and woke up from her trance. Bolting forward, she tried to pry the very large ghoul off the small woman. “Whoa-whoa, stop this. Let go off her Charon!”

The ghoul instantly released Anja, and she slumped to the ground, catching herself on her hands and knees. He didn’t step away from her though, crowding her space while she clambered back onto her feet. Leena stepped in between them, pushing Charon away from Anja with a hand to his chest. Her dark brown eyes were wide with shock.

The ghoul might’ve stepped away from Anja, but he kept his gaze leveled on her.

“You can’t do this Charon. Not to _her_ ,” Leena scolded, voice shaking.

The ghoul looked like he’d swallowed something nasty, and he backed further away from both women, finally moving his gaze to Leena. The words that came from him were rehearsed and unmelodic. “You hold my contract and I will protect you at all cost.”

Anja cradled her painful wrist to her chest, glaring between Leena and Charon. She stepped closer to Leena, almost threateningly so, and the ghoul beast followed the movement fluidly. But Leena held a hand out towards him, wordlessly stopping him from coming closer.

“How do you know my name?” Anja repeated the question slowly through clenched teeth, steadily meeting Leena’s dark-eyed gaze.

“You.. you don’t remember? I asked you your name when we found you.”

Anja huffed, although it wasn’t entirely unlikely. She’d been delirious when they’d found her, after all. She relented and stepped away from the Vault girl, seeing that Charon’s tense stance relaxed a little when she did.

“Okay,” Leena exhaled, also untensing her stance. “Time for some ground rules. You,” she pointed at Anja, “don’t pull a gun or any other weapon towards me. And he,” her finger moved to pint at Charon, “will not hurt you.” Her dark gaze shifted to Charon. “Not _ever_ , right Charon?”

The ghoul responded with a slow nod, once, barely a tilt of his head.

Anja blinked, suddenly understanding the nature of the relationship between this woman and the beastly ghoul. He followed her orders, he protected her, and she had his contract. He was her slave.

Resuming their journey in silence, Anja mulled this newfound knowledge around in her head. The Vault kid everyone thought was a saint and a heroine? Not so much… Why else would she keep a slave at her side?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too soon? To quickly?


	8. Chapter 8

**Discoveries**

 

Anja noticed something peculiar about her travel companions. Something she’d never noticed if she hadn’t been sleeping so poorly and was such a light sleeper in the first place.

After the party of three had settled down for the night, Anja and Leena would crawl into each of their sleeping bags while Charon walked the perimeter around their camp. The first nights she’d offered to take watch. Out here in the wasteland, allowing someone to watch over you while you sleep was considered the ultimate declaration of trust, and Anja wasn’t sure she trusted these people yet. But Leena gently turned down her offer, reassuring her that they would be safe.

They would be safe, because Charon never slept.

Anja laid in her sleeping bag, feeling the heat of the embers of their small fire against her backside, her face turned towards the darkness. She laid there and listened to Charon’s surprisingly soft movements as he kept watch. Sometimes he sat down next to the fire, rekindling the embers just enough to give off heat, but not enough to become a lantern in the dark. Sometimes he grabbed his shotgun and wandered around the area for a while. And other times, he was so eerily still that Anja was certain he’d fallen asleep somewhere.

Those times she turned around to search for him, only to find him just a few paces away, standing still. He sometimes watched the darkness, sometimes he just stood there and watched the fire, other times he watched the sky. And on a few occasions, Anja caught him watching _her_.

He never said anything. Never did anything to rouse suspicion or concern, but still. Anja could feel her nerves beginning to fray by it. Huffing, she turned back to glare at the darkness, her neck prickling uncomfortably.

It was one of those nights she laid like that, staring into the darkness, she heard Leena get out of her sleeping bag. Thinking that the girl only needed to empty her bladder, Anja thought nothing more of it. The minutes ticked by, but she didn’t return. More minutes passed, and she still wasn’t back.

Anja shifted to lay on her back, listening closely at the sounds around her.

She heard whispers. Hushed whispers of a female voice. Sitting upright, she tilted her head to find the direction. It was Leena’s voice, she was sure of it, and it wasn’t a whisper, rather it was far away.

Unzipping the sleeping bag, she shuddered a little against the cold and clasped her arms around herself. She followed the sound of Leena’s voice as it grew louder when she approached, and an uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. She hadn’t seen Charon anywhere yet. Maybe he was with her. But what could possibly be so important they had to sneak off and discuss it in the middle of the night?

Unless they were lovers…

Halting her steps, she hard the voice clearly now, just on the other side of a collection of large rocks. Leena’s bright and soft voice giggled a little, and Anja frowned. And then she backpedaled a little. If the Vault girl fancied the ghoul, Anja wasn’t going to spoil her fun.

Turning around to sneak back to the campsite, she crashed into a tall figure’s chest.

Anja recoiled with a startled gasp, looking up at the ghoul blocking her way. His shotgun was slung over his shoulder, his other hand hanging freely and slightly clenched at his side. He looked down at her through the darkness, head tilted slightly forward, face completely devoid of expressions.

“S-sorry,” she whispered, pulling the long sleeves of her cotton shirt down to cover her hands.

“You alright?” The question sounded somehow intimate. Hushed, and slow. The darkness almost completely engulfed him.

Anja could still hear Leena’s voice, and she inclined her head towards the rocks. “Is _she_ alright? Who’s she talking to?”

It took him some time to answer. He just stood there, looking down at her with those hazy gray eyes slightly narrowed, not a single thing giving away what he was thinking. Anja’s skin began to prickle uncomfortably, and she tore her gaze away from his, suddenly feeling in some way… invaded.

“Go see for yourself,” he finally said.

Anja moved her gaze up at him again, catching his eyes as he inclined his head towards the rocks. She pulled her sleeves further down her hands, tucking the ends into her hands, holding onto the balls of fabric. “Do you trust me to be alone with your employer?” She didn’t want to admit it, but her wrist was still hurting. Something in the way he’d grabbed it and squeezed, it didn’t feel right. It had hurt at the time, but not unbearable. Not enough to explain why it still throbbed with a dull ache and why her skin was still dark blue.

“Not sure,” he rasped, expression still stoic and unreadable. “You planning to do something stupid?”

Anja exhaled hard. “No.” She almost chuckled. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Then I trust you to be alone with her.” He tipped his head another time towards the rocks, where they could still hear Leena’s voice speak softly.

Finally giving in to her curiosity, Anja turned slowly away from the ghoul and walked towards the rocks. She could practically feel the ghoul’s eyes on her, certain he was watching her every step. It was dark, and she was careful with her feet, mindful of where she stepped. She gave the rocks a wide berth when she rounded them, her eyes strained in the dark to spot Leena.

The vault girl was lying on her back in a semi-sitting position, leaning against the rocks, head tilted backwards while she looked up at the sky. She was alone, but she had a soft and happy smile on her face, and she nodded a few times, and then she laughed softly. One of her feet was propped over her knee, and she moved it lazily up and down in a way that suggested she was wiggling her toes inside her shoes.

“Yeah, I know,” he smiled. “I’d love to see that though, the expression on your face.” Her dark eyes suddenly shot over to Anja approaching in her vision. “Oh, hi Anja.” She was still smiling, but it was less eased now. More forced. Tense.

Anja threw her hands out slowly, gesturing to their surroundings. “Who are you talking to?”

Leena’s smooth forehead crinkled into a soft frown, and she straightened to sit upright, her eyes darted around in uncertainty. “I’ll talk to you later,” she said to whoever she was talking to, and then she hugged her own hands, thumb on one hand caressing lightly over the back of the other hand.

Anja watched the gesture with a rising feeling of unease, seeing that Leena was looking back up at her. She patted the ground next to her, beckoning Anja to join her there. Moving as if she was tranquilized, Anja did.

“How much do you know about soulmates Anja?”

**…**

 

One hour later, Charon watched the two women return from behind the rock. He stayed out of their way, but his gaze was focused on his soulmate. She had a deep frown on her forehead, lips set in a slightly downcast grimace, eyes deep in thought.

He had not been able to restrain himself, and shamelessly reached through their bond, eavesdropping on Leena’s little lecture. Anja had questions, but she didn’t once reveal to Leena what she’d been through, that she’d heard a voice she now understood wasn’t insanity, but her soulmate. 

She headed straight for her sleeping-bag, slipping her feet into it and pulling up the zipper. Rolling to her side, she made herself comfortable. But Charon knew that she wasn’t. She’d lie there and stare emptily into the darkness for maybe an hour or so more. Like she always did, every night.

She was in pain too. From when he’d grabbed her. She hadn’t uttered a word about it, but Charon had taken notice of how she hid her arms and wrists. He’d felt it trough their bond, too, how the pain weakened her hand and made her clench her teeth hard when she aimed her assault rifle. The kickback from the gun sent jarring bursts of pain through her wrist. Her aim had been a little off after the incident.

He had no idea if that had something to do with their bond. He couldn’t remember much from the time he had his first soulmate. It had been at the time before he became a slave, and most of those memories were wiped from his mind. But he did remember the excruciating pain when she died. How empty and hollow and _dead_ he’d felt when she ceased to exist and a part of him ceased to exist with her. No amount of pain conditioning and physical torture could ever wipe that away from his mind.

Looking down at his scarred and calloused hand, the one he’d grabbed her wrist with, he frowned. He’d broken people’s bones more times than he cared to remember, knew what the sensation felt like. He’d twisted, crushed and snapped enough bones with his bare hands, that he knew exactly how much force he needed to apply. Was he loosing it? Had he been too rough with her without even knowing it?

He clenched his hand experimentally, closing his fingers around her imagined wrist, tightening the grip until he knew _that_ was the force he’d used. She’d been bruised before. Beaten, shot at, crippled. She’d been through so much worse than what he’d ever do to her, and she had walked most of it off with a shrug. Resilient, was the word that came to mind. His soulmate was incredibly resilient. But despite all that, she wasn’t healing right from something _he’d_ done to her.

It had to mean something. Relaxing his hand again, he turned away from the camp. Away from the sight of her lean and small figure tucked into the sleeping bag. She should be safe with him, but she wasn’t. She was anything but safe, and it was his fault. All of it.

**…**

 

“So how are you able to speak with him?” Anja was on her knees, halfway under a shelf and in front of a safe, edging a bobby pin into the lock. She leaned her head closer to the lock, listening as she wriggled the pin into place, and then she retrieved a screwdriver from her backpack.

“What do you mean? I just speak.” Leena shrugged, her eyes narrowed at the screen in front of her, fingers tapping the keys rapidly.

Anja sighed and gave the Vault girl a short glare. “How do you… you know. Make connection.”

“Oh,” Leena smiled. “Well, it’s hard to explain. I just… I think about him, try to pull my mind out of my own head and find him.”

“Uh-huh?” Anja shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know, I sound crazy. But it’s like a muscle you didn’t know you had. It will need practice to grow stronger, and eventually it’ll take less and less effort to pull through. I’m not even thinking about it anymore, I just do it.”

“But you’ve had this bond since you were a kid. You grew up learning to use it.” Anja narrowed her eyes as she used the screwdriver to twist the ring of the lock, cursing when the bobby pin broke.

“True,” Leena acknowledged with a nod. “Most soulmates are bonded at the time of their birth, but you know, not all soulmates are at the same age.” Her fingers tapped a couple more keys, and she grinned. “Got it!”

Anja pulled her second bobby pin out of the lock and away when the safe unlocked with a metallic click, the door sliding open an inch. “You’re good at that.” She opened the door wide and surveyed the safe’s contents, brushing aside a pile of crumpled papers.

“So?” Leena swiveled in the old office chair, grinning. “Are you going to make contact?”

Anja startled and bumped her head on the low shelf above her. “What? I’m not… I don’t have a soulmate.” Inwardly, she cursed.

“Sure you do,” the Vault girl drawled, grinning wider when she saw Anja’s blush. “Your questions are too deliberate and well-phrased to be coincidence.”

Pulling out a bag of caps and a couple of frag grenades from the safe, Anja handed them over to the Vault girl, ignoring the way her eyes glittered playfully. “That’s it,” she said, and crawled out from under the shelf, careful about not bumping her head again. “That’s all there was in there.”

Leena scowled down at the rather small pile of loot in her lap. “An expert terminal and lock for this? Jeez.” She rose to stand as well, grabbing her gun from the table and moving towards the door. Charon was waiting outside, keeping an eye out for trouble while the two women scavenged the office for valuables and supplies.

Anja hastily pocketed the small thing in her hand, small enough that Leena hadn’t noticed it, and followed behind her out the door. Later, when the retrieved the small trinket from her pocket, she felt petty and invasive about taking it in the first place. The silver locket was a beautiful little piece of art, but when she opened it, there was a faded picture inside. Of a man and a woman, embracing each other. He held around her upper body, holding the back of her head. She was leaning into the embrace, nuzzling the side of her face into his sweater. Her eyes were closed, a small smile playing on her lips. The smile reminded Anja of Leena’s when she talked with her soulmate.

She pocketed the little thing again, grimacing.

She had followed Leena and Charon out of the Capital ruins, like she’d said she would. Every day, they came closer and closer to Megaton, and Anja had been honest when she said that she wasn’t sure she’d join their travels permanently. Granted, she had been looking for a gun for hire, someone to watch her back when she went on her scavenging runs, but she wasn’t sure Leena’s little good fight was her cup of tea.

It was hard not to like Leena though. The Vault kid was just so… bright. A lantern in the dark, unflinching in the face of the horrors of the wasteland. For someone so young and inexperienced, she was not afraid to cast her light into the shadows and look the ugliness right in the eyes. Anja understood now that it wasn’t because the kid was naïve and easily fooled that she helped people. It was because she was trying to chase the darkness away. To fix all the wrongs she came across.

The realization that she’d come to like this girl in such a short time was startling. Unbidden and worrisome. Anja just wanted to get away from it all. She wasn’t a people-person. Never had been, never had wanted to be.

So, when the small entourage passed by Megaton, Anja gave her spare ammo, her grenades and her stimpaks to Leena, wishing the girl the best of luck in finding her father. And then she said goodbye.

**…**

 

“Are you alright with this?”

His employer had been silent for a few hours after Anja left them. Charon hadn’t spoken a word either. He held his shotgun tight and glared at the horizon, his jaw set in a hard clench that wasn’t about to loosen up anytime soon. Her question pierced the cold silence in his mind, working its way into his head and forced him to feel.

Charon didn’t want to feel. He didn’t want to touch that swollen and bruised area of his consciousness that screamed at him not to let his soulmate walk away. He was bound to his contract, no matter what he did or said, no matter what he felt, the contract came first.

Suddenly he hated her. Hated his employer with every inch of his being. Leena knew he was bound to her as his contract-holder, knew he’d never be able to break out of that hold. She had a soulmate of her own, so she also knew the tugs and twists inside him when Anja left them. And yet she did nothing to stop it. It left him feeling betrayed, like he’d expected something else from her. Something more.

He didn’t respond to her question. He didn’t want to look at her at all, so instead, he turned his attention to the horizon, his scowl deepening. He had hated all of his previous employers. It was a familiar little piece of hell, and he knew how to deal with it. He shut down. Only the contract mattered. Orders. Protecting the employer didn’t mean he had to engage with her.

Leena sighed. “She’ll come around, you know that right?”

He inhaled slowly, exhaled slowly. The sun was starting to set. They should start looking for a defendable position to make camp. Somewhere between the rocks and crevices up that hill perhaps. Wordlessly, he adjusted his steps and began walking up the hill.

“It’s only a matter of time before she’ll pull through and try to connect with you,” she continued, climbing the steep hill behind him. “She’s going to want to get to _know_ you, Charon.”

He continued to ignore her, effortlessly stepping up on a large rock to get a better overview. His employer waited on the ground, trusting him to know what he was doing. She was looking up at him with her dark eyes shining with worry, her small and soft hand laying on the rock for support. He searched the area with his eyes, narrowing them against the setting sun.

“Answer my question, Charon. Are you alright with Anja leaving us?”

His eyes trailed down to her, meeting her gaze steadily. He knew he looked intimidating, by the way she tensed. It was an order. The command tugged at his head, reaching into his pain threshold. He’d never been a man of words. He was guns and knifes and fists. That’s what most employers wanted him to be, what he was trained to be. But at least she had the decency to ask him a yes or no question.

“No.” He remained stoic, his gaze fixed on her. Several tense heartbeats passed between them. She bit her lip and frowned, sighing.

“Do you want to go back for her?”

“Do you?”

A quick and vulnerable expression flashed on her face. It was so brief that Charon knew he would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been glaring hard at her. She was the first employer in… a very long time that had asked him what he wanted, and his response was immediate and automatic. No matter what he wanted, she was his employer. It was what _she_ wanted he found himself concerned about. The only time in a very long time Charon had done something purely for himself, it was when he stalled his return to Ahzrukhal to catch a real-life glimpse of his soulmate. But then again, he’d never be able to do that if Ahzrukhal hadn’t sent him out on that errand, at that exact time to that exact location.

“I’d love to go back for her,” Leena finally answered, but her face was sad, and her voice was soft. “But I don’t think she’ll come with us willingly, and I can’t afford to be delayed any more. I have to find my father. And I really don’t want to do this all by myself.”

Charon gave her a nod of acknowledgement and hopped down from the rock. “Your wish is my command.” The words were trained, and he practically spat them at her.

Leena groaned, but she didn’t say anything more and followed close behind towards the campsite he’d spotted.

She didn’t see the burning fury in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pssst* You know there's a commentary button here, right? How 'bout using it?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

**Second Attempts**

 

Anja spent a week in Megaton, doing absolutely nothing. She had very few caps on her and could barely afford to eat, but still she stayed. She hid in the common house, in the room she always used there, sitting on the bed and staring blindly ahead. She’d managed to conceal her impending breakdown while she was with Leena and Charon, but now… Now that she was alone again, her mind reeled.

 It wasn’t really a breakdown though. Not truly. Not in the way she’d almost killed herself out of mere desperation only a week ago.

This… It was something else entirely. This was her mind slowly readjusting to the fact that she had a soulmate. She spent her days and nights reevaluating her whole life, working through everything she could remember, every instance where the echo had been present inside her head. The very idea that some stranger had been watching her for whoever knows how long was unsettling and not just a little bit infuriating. She had so many questions. How much had he influenced her? How many of the decisions she’d made had been entirely her own? Would her life have been different if he hadn’t been there, inside her head? And how dared he manipulate her feelings the way he obviously had?!

 Why hadn’t he _talked_ to her sooner?

Leena’s soulmate spoke to her. Used actual words to communicate. She said he sometimes allowed his emotions to flow through, if she needed it, but it was very rare. Leena’s soulmate apparently believed that Leena was better off if she learned to control her own emotions, not leech off from his. So, he spoke to her, talked her through anything she needed help or guidance with. He was always there, just an afterthought away. Leena could connect with him as easily as she blinked.

Anja had to admit it was a little creepy to know they’d had an unnamed and invisible observer these days. One that had watched everything from Leena’s eyes, talked to her while she watched over Anja’s half-dead body.

But then again, Anja had no idea if her own soulmate had looked in on her. She hadn’t heard his voice since before she woke from her coma. She hadn’t even felt the echo. Maybe he was gone. Maybe all those chems had cleansed her connection to him, or maybe almost dying severed the bond.

It was hard to admit, but she felt very much _alone_.

Moira had come to the common house one night, to check in on Anja. The redheaded shopkeeper had heard rumors that Anja was in town, and she was worried when she didn’t come to see her. Moira had sat down on the edge of Anja’s bed, apprehensive about the strange look in her eyes. She asked about Anja’s health, if she needed a doctor, or perhaps some booze. But Anja just shook her head and said she was fine.

Moira left the common house even more worried.

But then someone else came to the house, and everything changed.

Anja was lying on her side, facing the wall and curled up in on herself. It was a defenseless position, one she would never be in if she hadn’t been so mentally beaten. Her eyes were open, but she was drifting in and out of a numb slumber.

She didn’t hear the door on the first floor creak open. Didn’t hear the footsteps that climbed the stairs slowly, trying, and failing to be quiet. She didn’t see the shadow that rose on the wall in front of her, growing bigger as the figure ascended the stairs to her floor and approached behind her. She didn’t feel the instinctual prickle at her back of her neck, the one that would normally warn her she wasn’t alone. The figure leaned closer, looming over her frame to look at her face, the light behind him reflecting on his bald head. Anja noticed none of these things, even though she was half-awake and had her eyes halfway open.

But someone else did.

_"Wake up!”_

The voice was rough, hard and loud inside her head, startling Anja enough for her to flip around with a gasp. But everything happened so fast, and the next second a dry hand clamped firmly down on her mouth, silencing her.

She fought the figure as he climbed on top of her, but he caught her legs under his own and used his weight to keep them still. He fumbled in his pocket, and then something cold snapped and clicked around her wrist. An angry and muffled wail escaped her when she realized the horrific trouble she was in. Anja had been caught by raiders a couple of times in her life. She’d been beaten in bar-fights, passed out on the floor afterwards. She’d stumbled to her bed, shitfaced drunk and barely able to walk. She had been vulnerable many times in her life.

But she had _never_ been raped.

With only one free hand left, time was pressing. She panicked and tried punching him, she tried to yank herself loose from his grip. But he was slowly and strongly easing her handcuffed arm towards the other, trying to gather them to cuff her completely. Her muscles screamed, fighting his strength with everything she had. But she hadn’t eaten properly in a week. This was a fight she was going to lose.

_“Eyes. Go for his eyes!”_

Anja’s free hand reached up and clawed at the man’s face. He turned his head away, but she managed to find the soft tissue of one eye with her thumb.

_“Push into it.”_

She didn’t need to be told twice. Anja pushed her thumb into the soft and wet tissue, hearing the man grunt, and then scream. She kept pushing, feeling warm and thick wetness pour out around her thumb, and she pushed harder, almost completely lodging her thumb into his skull. The man panicked and released her cuffed arm, and then he punched her. The movement was enough to make her thumb slide out of his eye socket with a wet sound. The man punched her again, even harder. He released his hold over her mouth, and Anja snarled. Her eyes caught a glimpse of something blinking. Something metallic reflecting the light.

_“Take his knife.”_

She did. The moment he withdrew to punch her another time, Anja’s fingers wrapped around the hilt of his knife and pulled it out of his belt. She grabbed it firmly and pushed it upwards, the knife easily piercing his skin and finding his internal organs.

She had no idea if she’d stabbed him in the gut or the chest, because the man instantly threw himself backwards and off her. She could hear him tumble around to the floor, hitting it with a grunt. He thrashed for a second, limbs flailing to regain control. Anja rolled out of the bed and watched, her mind quickly deciding between flight of fight.

 _“Run!”_ the voice urged.

She hesitated, looking at the man engulfed in darkness. He stopped thrashing and clambered onto his hands and knees, and then pulled the knife out from his own body, slowly and with a sneer of pain. Clutching the bloodied knife in one hand, he pulled a stimpak out of his pocket with the other.

_“RUN!”_

Anja turned on her heel and sprinted down the stairs. She didn’t bother rounding the stairs on the floor below, skidding and jumping over the edge to the next floor. At the bottom floor, the door to the common house flew open with a crash when she bolted through it, hearing the man behind her, coming down the stairs inside the house.

She ran as fast as she could, down the hill from the common house, sliding at the steepest points, balancing herself with one hand to the ground above her.

_“Can you hide?”_

Reaching the center of Megaton, she slowed and stopped.

“No,” she panted, eyes frantically looking for other people. Where was everyone? “I don’t know. Where?” Catching her breath, she looked back up the way she’d come from. It didn’t seem like the man was following her.

_“You didn’t see his face. He could be anyone.”_

“I know that!” she yelled, white hot adrenaline fueling her temper.

_“Bald. He was bald. Know anyone bald?”_

“I don’t _know_ ,” she exhaled angrily and rubbed her eyes. The adrenaline was already receding, violent shivers crawling up her backside. Knowing she’d be useless in a few seconds, Anja stumbled towards the doctor’s clinic and collapsed on the ground, scooting under the walkway and stairs, hiding in the shadows. She leaned her back against the wall and just breathed.

The man was bald. She’d remember that. But right now, it was too hard to even think.

 _“There now,”_ the voice said. He sounded hoarse and strained, forced somehow. As if he wasn’t really used to talking. And the graveled roughness to it sounded familiar in a way that caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand. Was he a ghoul? _“You’re alright.”_

“I’ve grown weak.” She’d liked it to sound harsh, scolding herself for her carelessness. But instead it came as a pathetic whimper.

 _“You have,”_ he agreed. It was painful to hear. _“But you’re exhausted. You’ll bounce back. You always do.”_

Anja scoffed, but with a small smile on her lips. “You’re talking to me again? Now, of all times?”

He took a moment to answer, possibly seeing through her eyes how she surveyed the area for signs of her attacker. But there was no one around.

When he eventually answered, his voice was slow. _“Didn’t want to frighten you again.”_

“I thought you were gone.” She curled up and tightened her arms around her knees, still watching her surroundings from her shadowed position. The shakings were still violent, racing un and down her spine and limbs, vibrating. But she’d gained control over her breathing. Something unfamiliar began to stir inside her, thinking of what could’ve happened. She’d walked away from a lot of shit in her life. She’d crawled through the grinder of the wasteland more than once, and she’d come out on the other side a lot harder. She knew she was tough. But that… That was the one piece of her no one had managed to take.

_“You needed time.”_

Anja bit her lip, frowning. “Hey…” she paused and swallowed. “Thanks...” Dammit, why was this so hard.

_“It’s okay.”_

“No, it’s not. If you hadn’t grabbed my attention when you did. I…” she swallowed again, her gaze wandering down to her hands. She held them out and made a point of looking at them. They were still shaking, the handcuff on one of her wrists rattling slightly “I’m not sure I could’ve bounced back from that.”

Slowly, a tiny sliver of emotion worked its way into her. It wasn’t crushing or invasive like it had been the first times. This was gentle and carful, and it reminded her a lot of how the echo had behaved. It was calm, warm, and comfortable.

_“I know.”_

Anja exhaled and leaned her head back, resting against the wall. She needed to go back to the common house, eventually. But right at this moment she was perfectly fine just sitting there and let herself be cradled in comfort, just this once.

It wasn’t until doc Church came out of his clinic that Anja moved from her hiding spot. The doctor didn’t see her, but he reminded her that she was still out in the open, and that she wasn’t really safe just yet. Her attacker could be anywhere, anyone.

**…**

 

Charon walked behind Leena down the corridors of the Vault. It was an unusual thing for him to do, to take the rear guard, but Vaults were sort of her specialty. He held his shotgun propped, aimed over her shoulder and ahead of her, trained eyes looking down the length of the barrel, searching for danger.

Besides, he thought while he watched her figure stalk to a doorway, listening close before she hit the button to open it. The door hissed and slipped open. They were looking for her father. Perhaps she was worried that Charon was going to get trigger happy and shoot the man.

As long as the man behaved himself and posed no threat to his employer, Charon would never have a reason to point his gun at him in the first place.

The Vault appeared to be abandoned. It was tidy, quiet and clean. It looked untouched, and it made his skin itch and his eyes hard. Something didn’t feel right. Leena stopped by another door, listened, and then waved him over. Charon quickly stepped forward, also listening.

“Robobrain,” he said, recognizing the sounds of the whirrs and clatters from the mechanical-driven treads. He took a step backwards, readying his shotgun.

Both of them jumped in surprise when the door opened with a swish, and the robot rolled closer.

**…**

 

He sat in the dimmed and cold light of the loungers, overseeing the one his employer was in. Her vital status was on display on the black screen. So far, she was good. Watching her climb into it and then fall unconscious was brutal, painful even. _Protect the employer_ , the contract demanded of him. But she wanted this, needed to do this. And she’d ordered him to stay here and keep watch. She’d even ordered him to keep an eye on her father’s lounger.

Under normal circumstances, he’d detest this order with every fiber of his being. But now however… If she never woke up, he wouldn’t wait for her until he died or turned feral. He’d find a way to get his soulmate here, to have her take the contract off from Leena’s lifeless but still alive body. A part of him almost hoped for that to happen.

Charon settled on the ground to wait. He was good at waiting, just staying still in one place for hours and hours at end, looking out into the air. His mind began to drift, and Charon indulged it to take him wherever it wanted him to be. His surprise was nonexistent when it turned his attention to a certain someone; the only one he couldn’t take his mind off.

Willingly falling deeper into the vision, Charon’s sight of the loungers and the screens displaying vital signs vibrated and then doubled. An unfamiliar sight overlapped his own, his vision of the loungers and the screens fading to the background. It didn’t disappear though. His orders were to keep an eye on his employer and her father, and he’d do just that. Keep an eye on them.

The eyesight of his soulmate came into vision. It was dark around her. She felt cold. Immediately, he reached through a little more, invisible tendrils reaching for how she felt. He frowned. She was _so_ tired.

“You’re still not sleeping?”

The woman shifted her position. He heard her sleeping bag ruffle when she maneuvered herself inside it, twisting onto her back. She sighed. Her eyes watched the sky. The stars shining behind a thin veil of radiation.

 _“No.”_ Her voice was a little hoarse, sounding tired.

She’d fled Megaton after she was attacked. Charon wasn’t sure what to think of that. The Anja he knew, the one he’d known for 20 years, would never be scared off so easily. She would have hunted the man down with fury and vigor. But the woman whose mind he was tapping into now was scared. Lost and unhinged. In a moment of worry, Charon feared she might break down again and do a lot of stupid stuff.

Had he done this to her, he wondered.

“Where are you?” he asked. He hadn’t been able to check in with her much these last few days. His employer liked to keep them busy. In fact, this was he first time he’d spoken to her after the attack.

_“Does it matter?”_

“It does to me.” His reply was slow and measured, feeling her apprehension and tightly restrained frustration.

_“Why?”_

“You know why.” As the words fell from him, he caught a slight tremor in her spine. Was she high again? Or coming down from a high?

The woman shifted again, this time fully around to look at what she’d had her back to when he connected with her. It was a small campfire, long burned out with faint embers glowing deep in the ashes. Her eyes settled on the glowing embers. She should relight it. The nights in the wastes were cold.

 _“No, you’re wrong,”_ she interjected, _“I **don’t** know. I don’t know a single thing about you. Your name? Your story? Your relation to me? I don’t know where you are, but you want to know where I am? That’s not fair.”_

Charon exhaled hard with a chuckle, as if he’d held his breath, and focused his vision on his own surroundings. “You want to know where I am?”

She hesitated. For a long time. Charon waited. He might not be able to give her even a fraction of what he would have liked, but he’d give her this. _“Yeah,”_ she finally said.

Steeling himself, Charon reached further for her, embracing her end of the bond gently. She resisted, like a sleek and unwilling vein bending to avoid a needle, she slipped from his grasp. He paused his attempts, speaking slowly. “You’re going to have to trust me.”

_“But I don’t. How can I?”_

“Just this once. Close your eyes.”

She did what he said, his sight of her vision darkening when her eyelids shut. It took him back a little how easily she was willing to try, despite not knowing a single thing about him. Or perhaps it was because of that, he wondered, correcting himself. It was very possible she would shun him for good when she learned who he was. Again, he reached for her, trying to bring her out of her shell and towards him. He’d never done this before, that he could remember, and Leena had warned about it. It could be painful.

Normally, a soulmate would reach out on their own, finding each other's minds and senses. But the only time Anja had done that was when she was half-dead, and he wasn’t sure she even remembered that she’d done it. More importantly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to teach her how to do it. She’d be able to tap into him whenever she wanted, looking at what he was doing when he had no way of stopping her. He wouldn’t even be aware she was doing it.

A shocked gasp suddenly escaped her when she dislodged from herself, and Charon waited. He felt her waver, a short panic beginning to rise. He quickly pushed reassurance forwards, and slowly brought her back to him. To his end of the bond.

“Open your eyes.”

She did what he said, and then she recoiled. Her physical body rolled and fell off the thin sleeping mat. But her eyes weren’t seeing any of that.

Charon rose from his position on the floor, sweeping his gaze slowly over the Vault's lounge area. The many loungers illuminated the darkness and gave the room a ghostly glow. She was shocked, and fascinated, and scared and utterly in disbelief.

_“What are those?”_

“Virtual reality loungers.” He wandered slowly between them, looking at the people inside. However, he was careful to avoid looking at his employer. Anja would recognize her immediately. Stopping next to one of the loungers, he looked at the subject inside. A woman somewhere in her early 40’s.

 _“Is she aware you’re there?”_ his soulmate asked, her voice a little hushed.

“No.” He moved his gaze to the monitor and clicked the buttons showing her vital sighs. Her stress levels were elevated. “At least I think not.” He gazed to the other loungers.

_“Being trapped in that machine… Aware, but still gone. That’s gotta be a special kind of hell.”_

“Yeah.” He suddenly realized he could see a little of his own reflection from the glass in the pod, and quickly turned around. “You know what virtual reality is?”

 _“I’ve read about it.”_ Right, Charon nodded slightly affirmative. She liked to read. He knew that. _“What are you doing there anyway?”_

Charon slowly moved away from the pods, linking his hands behind his back. He dipped his head a little, looking at the floor. Her question had him frown. How was he supposed to explain to her that he wasn’t a free man? That he would forever be bound to someone else, whoever held his contract. If Leena died, or worse, sold his contract, he could find himself employed by another Ahzrukhal. Another monster.

But then again, he wasn’t sure Anja would ever learn to trust him if he lied to her. Because he knew she’d find out if he did. They were soulmates, after all. They’d meet again. She’d learn everything eventually, and when she did, everything he’d said and done would be pulled into question.

“I am working for someone who needed to go here. My employer is inside one of those loungers.”

_“What? Who are you working for?”_

“Can’t tell you that. Not now, at least.”

 _“Is it some secret mission?”_ He could hear by her voice she was smiling, her tone conspiratorial, and it made Charon smile a little too.

“You can say that.”

_“Okay. I’ll respect that. But can you tell me what kind of work you’re doing? Are you a scientist?”_

He barked a laugh, loudly. It echoed off the walls in the big chamber. “Not even close. I’m a bodyguard. I do the heavy lifting and the shooting.”

 _“Oh,”_ she paused. _“Right.”_

“Listen… I’m not wh-“ A loud beep from one of the loungers cut him off, Charon immediately released Anja from his hold, rather forcibly throwing her back into her own shell. He heard by her loud gasp that it hurt, felt it in his own spine when she was brutally cast back into herself and jolting to sit upright by the sudden shock. “I’m sorry.” While he talked, he quickly walked over to his employer’s lounger, seeing the warnings flash on the monitor. “Something’s happening. We'll talk later.”

_“No wait! Can I-“_

He closed the connection and shut her out of his mind. His employer was in trouble.

**…**

Anja groaned and huffed in annoyance. The first actual conversation they had, and he cut it off all too soon. She needed to find him. To meet him face to face, but she had no idea who he was or where he was.

Packing her things, she began searching for something inwards. Something she’d felt when she had decided to travel into the DC ruins. Remembering that it had felt right.

She’d go with that, even if the chance was slim and most likely wishful thinking. It was her only chance.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Search and Find**

 

The wasteland nature had never been accommodative, but this was ridiculous. Anja stomped in frustration, water splashing around her feet. The ground was nothing but mud and sleek rocks, sucking at her shoes by every step she took. The roads were slippery. Radiated water had been pouring steadily from the sky for days now, and no matter how many portions of Rad-X Anja took, she was constantly battling a slight sickness that left her saliva feeling too thick and her stomach roll uncomfortably.

She still had enough radaway to stay relatively healthy for another day, but she was far away from any known settlements. Her only hope would be that she found some more radaway, or that the sky would stop pouring down on her. Her shoes sloshed when she walked, soaked in water. She was cold and wet to the bone. Everything was wet.

This wasn’t her first rodeo though, and she’d been out in harsh weather before. But that didn’t mean she liked it one bit. Her green eyes lifted from the trail to survey her surroundings. Even though the air was dark, rain disfiguring everything, she could still distinguish buildings far ahead of her. Hoisting her assault rifle higher on her back, she picked up the pace.

“Hey, are you there?”

There was no response. Her soulmate wasn’t watching. He’d been absent for days now, after the conversation where he’d so abruptly cast her back into her own body. Anja’s mind still reeled from the experience, but now that she hadn’t heard from him in several days, she was worried. Every now and then, she’d speak, hoping he heard her. But he didn’t, and she had no idea how to reach for him.

“So unfair,” she muttered under her breath and tried to stomp some more mud off her shoes, walking slowly up the destroyed road, approaching the houses. Now that she was closer, she could see that one of them looked mostly intact.

She wasn’t even sure _why_ she was out here in the first place. Out in the middle of nowhere, not scavenging, not exploring or doing anything useful. For all anyone cared, she was just another bag of meat wasting the air. The only guidance she had to lead her towards her soulmate was how she felt; right and hurried.

Approaching the houses, Anja hunched lower and stalked forward. Ghouls. She could hear them, the wet thumping sounds when they walked around. She snuck over to one of the houses and used it for cover, edging along one of the walls until she could see the creatures.

Four. Shouldn’t be too difficult.

Slowly, she brought forward her assault rifle, eyeing the ghouls while she unclasped the safety. One of the ghouls looked tougher than the others, its skin a little less rotten, its muscles bigger. It would be harder to kill unless she managed to take them by surprise.

Loosening one of the frag grenades at her belt, she used her teeth to pull the pin and then aimed. Her throw was good and steady. The grenade flew in a small arc and landed in the ground between the ghouls with a wet thud, sinking into the mud. All four ghouls turned their heads to the sound. And then it exploded.

A sudden rain of mud, dirt and ghoulified blood poured down in the area, and Anja shielded her eyes. The ghouls screamed, their rotten throats and disfigured vocal cords straining from the pressure. The sound was feral and horrible. Wiping her eyes dry of mud, Anja looked.

One of the ghouls was completely in pieces. Two of them had been thrown away from the blast. Another ghoul laid on its front, stumped hands grasping the mud and destroyed legs laying limply behind it. It had spotted her, and its slightly glowing eyes were big and mad with hunger. Even now, as it laid there helpless, it still tried to crawl its way towards her. Anja shot it once in the head, silencing its screams.

The remaining two ghouls charged at her, and she dashed out of her hiding place, shooting their legs as they ran. One of them, the big one, was already limping, and the other was missing an arm. She kept shooting the big one’s already crippled leg, and soon enough, the limb ruptured in an explosion. The ghoul fell forward and to the ground.

The final ghoul reached her and knocked her to the ground. It fell on top of her, Anja screamed, using her rifle to shield her and keep the creature’s snapping teeth away from her face. The ghoul clawed and grasped for her, screaming and hissing. The weight of it on top of her pushed her further into the mud. Horrified, she could feel her head sink into a puddle that completely engulfed her face.

When she emerged again, still keeping the ghoul off her face, she gasped for air. The creature’s wet and blunt fingers tried to claw at her throat, but its nails were long gone. She shuddered at the sickly breath coming from the dark and gaping hole in the middle of its face. Its mouth. It tried to pry her assault rifle away, and again she was pushed into the puddle.

She kicked, frantically trying to find something solid to plant her feet against to help her push out of the mud. But then something sharp clamped down on her calf. Anja screamed, head still submerged in the puddle. She swallowed mouthfuls of mud, coughing and choking as her body desperately tried to breathe. The ghoul on top of her bit her outer arm, its blunt teeth clamping down hard on her leather armguards, trying to tear off a piece of her flesh.

Not like this, her inner mind screamed at her. Please, not like this!

A sudden rush of surprise surged through her. The feeling was powerful and shocking.  _“Whoa, fuck! Get out of there!”_

Anja would have snarled in response that she couldn’t, but she was still unable to breathe, and her heart was pounding ferociously in her chest. Her lungs screamed for air, tried to cough, only to fill with muddy rain-water once again.

 _“Shit!”_ The voice was angry, slightly panicked.

Suddenly, Anja could feel the ghoul biting her calf loosen its hold. The ground thundered slightly, rhythmically from feet running. Water and mud splashed around her as several sets of feet ran through it. She heard gunfire, the sound muffled through the mud and water. The ghoul on top of her was pried away. And then someone grabbed the front of her jacket and lifted her out of the puddle.

People were shouting and fighting the remaining ghouls. A sickening crunch reached her ears as someone cracked open the skull of the ghoul who’d bitten her leg. The other was flinging its remaining arm at the people, and they kept shooting its limbs to slow it down.

Anja rolled to her side, coughing and trying to breathe. The thick mud was still lodged in her airways, preventing her from drawing her breath. Someone kneeled behind her and roughly grabbed around her torso, just below her ribcage. They tightened the hold and yanked hard, almost lifting her off the ground. It hurt, but it worked. Her reflexive exhale from the pressure had a large chunk of mud fill her mouth, and she spat. The person yanked at her another time, and again another chunk of the thick substance loosened from her airways. Briefly, she could hear her soulmate murmur encouraging words as she coughed again, heaving for her breath, almost gagging.

The person behind her released their hold on her torso and allowed her some space while she recollected herself. She remained on the ground, breathing hard and still couching, soaked in mud, water and blood. She must’ve been a pathetic sight, but right at that moment, Anja couldn’t bring herself to care. The area fell silent, the ghouls were dead, and the people had stopped shooting. She registered that they came over to her, two sets of feet.

“Jeez girl, don’t you know to stay away from ghouls?” a man said and stepped closer, reaching his hand out for her to take. She took a few painful breaths and took his hand. He hauled her to her feet. He was in his late fifties somewhere, Hispanic features, kind and dark eyes.

“I’m James. And this is my daughter, Leena and her friend.” The man gestured to a young woman, and the large ghoul behind her.

Anja blinked in surprise. “Leena?”

“Anja? Is that you?” Leena said and stepped closer, looking at her with scrutiny. “My gosh, you look… muddy.”

“Hah, funny.” Anja spat some remaining mud from her mouth.

The older man was looking between the two women. “You two know each other?”

“Yeah. Dad, this is Anja. The wastelander I told you about. Remember?”

James took a moment to frown, his dark eyed gaze assessing Anja from head to toe. Anja knew she looked dirty, but this was just rude. “Right. I remember,” he finally said.

“What are you _doing_ here Anja?” Leena asked.

“I.. uh.” She wiped some of the muddy hair away from her face. “I travel around. What are _you_ doing here?”

“Well, I found my father, and now we’re heading back to Rivet City.”

“I mean, here. In this house.” Anja gestured towards the buildings.

“Do you see any better places to camp?”

“No… Shit, I wasn’t trying to follow you. I’m sorry. I’ll just… I’ll go.” She grabbed her assault rifle from the ground and shouldered it, swallowing a lump in her throat. This was humiliating. She’d followed her intuition, and it had brought her right back to the Vault girl and her monster companion.

The ghoul hadn’t said anything. He kept his distance, watching the humans and their conversation. Anja gave him a quick glance, knowing it was him who’d pulled her out of the mud. She wanted to say, ‘thank you’, but failed to master her courage. She instead gave the Vault girl and her father a nod and turned to leave.

“Anja, wait,” Leena said behind her.

She stopped, keeping her gaze on the road. “What?”

“Stay with us.” Footsteps approached, and Leena’s small hand came to rest on her shoulder. “Please, stay with us.”

“You look like you need some rest, miss,” the man chimed in behind them. “And I do detect some signs of radiation poisoning on you. How long since you took some radaway?”

Anja huffed. “What, you a doctor or something?”

“Actually, yes.” His voice was warm and rich with consideration, and suddenly Anja understood where Leena had gotten her caring and compassionate nature from.

“Sure. Okay. I’d love to dry off anyways.” She turned and met Leena’s warm and dark eyes.

The Vault girl was still holding her shoulder, gently steering her steps towards one of the houses that looked intact. The ghoul walked silently behind them all.

**…**

They had taken cover in the old abandoned neighborhood, hiding inside the most intact house, hoping to wait out the storm. His employer and her father had a lot to talk about, and even though Charon noticed the wary glances the old man sent him, he didn’t object to Charon’s presence.

They knew a small group of ghouls were wandering between the houses, but the creatures were mostly blinded by the rain and oblivious to the people hiding inside the house. Charon had voted for leaving them alone, arguing that they’d provide additional protection. Leena had agreed to that.

But then they’d heard an explosion, gunfire, and Anja’s mind had managed to reach out to him. Slightly set back by her sensation of drowning, Charon had violently staggered his way down the stairs inside the house. He didn’t need to look out the window to know that it was her out there, and he had ripped the door open without explaining why to a startled Leena and James.

Luckily, Leena and James were quick responders and shortly behind him out the door, both humans armed and aiming their guns.

He wasn’t sure if it was fury or shock he felt when he pulled her out of the mud that was choking her. How had she managed to find them, and why was she travelling unprotected like this through a storm? He was damn glad to see her, but also very angry.

But then he saw her reaction, when she realized who she’d found, and something fell in his chest. Anja didn’t at all look happy to see them. In fact, she looked sad.

When she stepped inside the house they had procured for shelter, he got to look at her fully. Underneath all that mud and wet grime, she looked healthy and strong, like she had always looked. A bit tired, perhaps, but she looked good.

Leena followed her to one of the spare bedrooms in the house, a child’s room with a bunk bed. Charon made sure the front door was locked properly before he set his shotgun away. James was rummaging through his equipment, bringing out a med-x and a stimpak. Charon eyed the med-x warily.

“Is that for her?” he asked, voice rasping uncomfortably.

“Yes,” James confirmed.

“Why?”

The aged man straightened from this backpack, raising an eyebrow up at the large ghoul. “She’ll need painkillers, and she’s going to need a shot of the stim to prevent pneumonia.”

“She’s susceptible to addiction.” He heard it himself, how his voice was ragged and sounding angry.

James crossed his arms. “One shot of med-x won’t have her hooked. And she’ll need it until the fluids in her lungs have disappeared.”

Charon didn’t reveal any expressions to the man, and he didn’t object any more. Instead, he grabbed a box of InstaMash and a bottle of purified water, heading for the kitchen. They’d been lucky with this house; the stove still had usable gas in it.

Their food rations had disintegrated after James joined them, and they’d been unable to find any more while they hid from the storm in this house. He hoped the storm would pass soon, or else they would be rationing the food in unhealthy portions.

Half of his attention was on his soulmate’s side of the bond while he heated the water on the stove, adding the InstaMash powder when the water was boiling. He pulled the pot aside and put a lid on it, allowing it to swell a little while it cooled down. It wasn’t very nutritious, but at least it was warm. He settled on waiting, crossing his arms and leaning back on the counter. Anja had changed into a spare set of clothes his employer had, a simple pair of cotton pants and a thin long-sleeved shirt. She’d been able to wash away most of the grime and dirt. James joined the two women, giving Anja an injection of med-x and a stimpak, and then hooking the radaway from her own stock into her vein. The effects of the med-x numbed her a little, but not alarmingly much. The radaway chased her nausea away.

Charon waited until the humans were done with her, and then he scooped the ready InstaMash onto a plate, stuck a fork into the food, and exited the kitchen. Leena came down the stairs to meet him.

“Dad’s going to bed. Anja’s resting, but still awake.” She smiled a little, the expression on her face meaningful only to him. “I think she was looking for you.”

“I know.” He glanced down at the plate in his hand. “She’ll need to eat.”

“It’s okay, Charon. Go talk to her. I’ll keep watch.”

He gave her a small nod and climbed the stairs, slowly, but still taking two steps at a time. Questioningly, he reached into the bond. “You alright?”

She was lying on her side, facing the door. _“Yes.”_ Her response was hushed. _“Where have you been?”_

“Busy.” He stopped at the top of the stairs, not daring to enter the hallway leading to her room just yet. He looked at the door, curious and frowning. “What have you been up to?”

She was silent for many, very long seconds. He could feel her nervousness rise and sink, and when her response finally came, it was slow and hesitant. _“Looking for you.”_

Charon closed his eyes. He’d known it was possible, for soulmates to find each other seemingly by chance. But maybe it wasn’t chance. Maybe it was the bond. Hadn’t he felt utterly terrible when she had left them for Megaton? Hadn’t it felt wrong and taxing and close to painful?

 _“Where are you?”_ she asked

He swallowed, needing to steel his own nerves for a second before he answered. This was it - the moment he had been waiting for. The moment he had waited 20 years for, dreading and yearning it in equal measure. But it was all too soon. “Not far.”

She moved to sit upright on the bed, looking at the door. Charon remained still, rooted in place while he saw through the bond that she plucked the radaway insertion needle out of her arm and then rose from the bed. She walked over to the door. Her small and firm hand grabbed the doorknob, twisting it, and then pulling the door open.

He saw himself, standing in the dimmed light just beyond the hallway outside her door, looking like a monster. He saw how hulkingly large he looked from her shorter point of view, how his stance was tense and intimidating even when holding a plate of food. His free hand was hanging loosely at his side, but it looked large and scarred and strong. He saw how his head was lowered a little. His mouth was closed to a thin line and his jaw was set in a rigid clench. And even though his hazy gray eyes laid mostly in the shadows from the brim of his hat, Charon still met his own, hard gaze. It had her heartbeats quicken.

Withdrawing from the bond and the unsettling image of himself, Charon watched her swallow hard and then step back from the door a little, holding it open for him. Without giving himself time to reconsider, he walked forward and entered her room.

“So, it’s really you?” she asked, giving him a wide berth when she closed the door behind him and moved back to her bed. “I thought your voice was familiar.”

Charon stood still in the middle of the floor, watching her retreat as far back on the lower bunk bed as she could get. He wasn’t sure he liked the way she withdrew so far into it, like a scared animal hiding in a cavern to avoid predators. Hesitantly, he grabbed a chair from the desk in the room and pulled it over to the bed, sitting down on it and setting the plate down next to her. Anja glanced at the food, and then a small smile caressed her face.

“You’re expecting me to eat all that?”

Charon’s scarred lips tugged into a smile. “Yes.” His smile vanished quickly though, and he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, looking right at her. “When did you figure out it was me?”

“Just now, outside. You kept talking to me, but this time for real and not in my head.” She was pale, and her eyes were big and dark in the shadows of the upper bunk. A new and sudden smile caressed her face, slightly skewed. “I found you.”

“You did,” he acknowledged slowly. “I’m not what you expected me to be though.”

She inhaled slowly, and then exhaled with a sigh. “No, you’re not.”

“I’m a ghoul.”

“Yes, that’s obvious.”

“I’m employed by whoever hold my contract.”

“I know that too.”

“I’m very old.”

“How old?”

“Pre-war.”

Anja blinked and exhaled another time. He hadn’t even heard her breathe, suspecting she was fighting down anxiety one of the few ways she knew how. He didn’t need to reach into the bond to see that she was scared and watching him closely.

“Your food is getting cold.” He inclined his head to the plate sitting untouched next to her.

Anja glanced towards it, and then gently picked up the plate and the fork, brining it towards her. Charon looked away from her while she ate, wanting to give her some small privacy. This turn of events wasn’t how he would have preferred revealing to her they were soulmates. Charon had wanted to form a friendship with her through their bond before they met. He would have made sure she was comfortable talking to him. Would have eased her into the knowledge of who he was and his bound life. He would not have wanted her to fear him. Not like this.

But then again, he mused, glancing at her wrist holding the fork and seeing it was fully healed now. Maybe it was just as well this way. She needed to know that his contract came first. Always. Even if that meant she stood in his way. Even if that meant she’d get hurt.

“If you’re that old, how long have you known me?” she broke the silence, still poking her fork into her food thoughtfully. She had eaten quietly, and not nearly as much as she should, but at least it was something.

“Your whole life.”

His response had her shoulders tense, and a heated blush crept up her cheeks. “You knew who I was when you aimed your gun at me the first time we met?”

A slightly pained exhalation escaped him, completely unintentional and almost startling the woman to scoot even further away from him.

“You knew,” she answered the question for him. “You knew damn well who I was.”

“I did.”

“And you threatened to kill me anyways. You let me think that I was insane. For years… you-” the words caught in her throat and her gaze lowered. The hands holding the plate began to shake, and Charon reached slowly forward to take it from her. She allowed it, she didn’t recoil or flinch, but he was still careful not to touch her hands with his own.

Setting the plate aside on the floor, Charon settled slowly back into his previous position, looking at her but keeping his distance. “I wasn’t going to shoot you. But you had something that belonged to my previous employer. I might’ve been forced to take it from you, but I would have tried to do so without harming you.”

“I thought I was insane,” she repeated, her dark green eyes settling back to meet his. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“I wanted to. More times than I can count, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

Charon shifted on the chair, uncomfortably. “There’s a few things you need to know about my contract,” he began, holding her gaze. “And it’s important that you listen. Important to your past, and your future. And your safety.”

Taking a steadying breath, she nodded and shifted her position a little, sitting more comfortably. “I’m listening.”

**…**

Anja slept through the rest of the night, undisturbed and deeply. Charon had left her alone to sleep when her eyelids grew heavy, and she’d fallen asleep almost instantly. He sent Leena off to bed, staying awake and extinguishing the candles lighting the house. He kept watch, looking out the windows at a pack of feral wolves sniffing the dead ghouls with hungry interest.

His soulmate appeared to take the news well enough, regarding is contract and how it worked. He told her about how little he remembered of his life before he became a hired man. She muttered compassion when he explained what little free will he had, even if that wasn’t what he wanted from her. Charon had never wanted, of felt comfortable with, people’s sympathy. He just needed her to understand. She understood that he’d been worried for her safety if anyone found out about their bond. She admitted that she would have tried to find him earlier if she’d known about it earlier. She understood that if she had done that, terrible things could have happened to her.

She accepted his apology for not telling her sooner. She accepted his carefully expressed admittance that he had influenced her many times during her childhood and teens.

In short, Anja appeared willing to accept everything he said. When he’d reached into their bond during their conversation, suspecting she was hiding her true feelings, he found calm, contented feelings.

Again, it surprised him how easily she was willing to try, even if he could see how she physically avoided him and shied from his presence. She shrunk back when he rose from the chair, but she allowed him to give her hand a gentle hug through their bond. An invisible gesture that wasn’t real, but still there.

She slept through the entire night.

**…**

Although their conversation the night before had gone smoother than Charon had expected, with daylight came doubt. The rain had finally stopped during the morning hours, and Leena and her father were both eager to travel again.

Anja donned her still damp and dirty clothes; a set of worn jeans and a long, sleeveless leather coat, along with a pair of worn army boots. She’d made herself protective arm wraps from scrap leather, an old wristwatch, some cloth and a belt. Charon eyed the outfit with distaste, seeing how unprotected she was in it.

He noticed the way she watched him with wary and distance when she joined them to leave the house, and Charon gave her the space she obviously needed. He trekked at the front of their progression, assuming his role as Leena’s bodyguard and protector, holding his shotgun ready.

Leena and her father walked behind him, and Anja took the rear guard. Even if her armor was questionable at best, she was still a good shooter and a proficient survivalist. Charon trusted her to watch their backs.

The first hours they travelled, they were all silent and deeply concentrated. The ground was treacherous and sleek from days of rain, and they had to move in large detours to avoid the muddiest areas.

During midday however, Charon suddenly felt it. A small tug at his attention. It felt very much like the tug that had called for his attention the night before when the ferals attacked his soulmate. Turning quickly around, he spotted Anja behind them. Nothing appeared to be wrong. He reached his mind to her, speaking quietly.

“Something wrong?”

 _“I.. Wow, it worked?”_ she answered as quietly she could, slightly breathless. _“I’ve been at it all day.”_

“I think it did,” he murmured his response, looking forward with a small frown.

Several more tugs followed that day. He checked on her every time, just catching her eyes to tell her he’d felt it. Sometimes though, when he checked on her if the tugs were long in between, he caught her scowling.

Despite the failures, she was slowly learning to control her connection to the bond. Charon could feel her experiment from time to time. He wasn’t sure he should encourage it the way he did, but something in the way she tugged so gently made it hard to turn her down.

It wasn’t until late in the afternoon Charon took her to the side for an actual conversation. Her experiments were beginning to strain him, and he needed her to stop. While Leena and James were busy lighting a small campfire, Anja returned from a private errand. Charon intercepted her path back to the campsite and motioned for her to follow him. He didn’t touch her, but he did make it clear they needed to have a talk. Bringing her with him as far from the camp as his contract would allow without jeopardizing his employer’s safety, he turned around and looked at her.

“I need you to stop.” His rough voice sounded hard, and he exhaled to relax.

Anja had stopped at a good distance from him, looking through the darkness up at his face. “What?”

Continuing with what he hoped was a softer voice, Charon reached into the bond and sent her reassurance. “This,” he said, looking right at her, shifting the emotions to anger, and then worry, and then back to reassurance. All of them were feelings he had within him at this moment. “You’re aware you’re sending me your emotions, right?

She had been at that for the whole afternoon. But her emotions were all over the place, swinging up and down and shifting too fast for him to follow, and he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted like that while he was busy protecting his employer. Not even for his soulmate. It pained him a little to see her immediate and discouraged expression.

“Oh.” She took a slight step back and away from him, biting her lip. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not the one who’s’ upset, Anja.”

That was it. She looked ready to make a bolt for it. Charon wasn’t a people-person, but he’d cornered frightened animals and people alike many times during his career. His trained eyes recognized her flinch when he said her name, the way her green eyes darted up at his, and her stance waver in the middle of confrontation and escape as she searched for an exit.

Acting on impulse, he quickly reached out and grabbed her arm. The grip wasn’t hard, easy for her to break out of if she wanted. She even tested it gently, and then stilled when she understood just how carefully he was holding her. His hand slid down her arm to her hand, his skin meeting hers for the first time. Her skin was dry, and her hand felt just like he’d imagined it would; small and hard.

“Can I help?” he asked. He almost had to lean forward a little to look at her face. She was staring down at their joined hands.

Anja shook her head. “Just figuring out how this works. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You can talk to me if you’re having troubles, or questions. Anything you need.”

She shook her head again. “I’ll stop experimenting with what I send your way. You have my word.” Very gently, she stole her hand back from his, a small shiver running through her when she did. Charon didn’t try to hold onto her, and he didn’t try to stop her when she walked away from him, back to the campsite.

He knew most smoothskins were disgusted by ghouls. His soulmate was no different.

**…**

He’d touched her. His skin had felt… like weathered leather. It was roughly textured from all the scars of the ghoulification process and probably quite a few other scars as well. His hand had been gentle around hers, holding with enough pressure that it could be qualified as _holding_ , but not restricting.

Anja stared down at the hand he’d taken hold of, still re-living how it had felt. A small shiver ran up her backside. His hands were so large. Everything about him was large. His shoes were huge, his frame was tall and broad, muscled and looking very much lethal.

She caught herself glancing at him from her seated position next to the fire. He was eating, sitting cross legged next to James, his head dipped a little over his food so that the brim of his sheriff’s hat was hiding is face. The hand holding the fork looked so strange and red from all the scars.

Another shiver worked its way through her, and she shifted her gaze down to her own food, poking her fork through it without eating. James was also eating, and Leena was trying to eat while she was simultaneously fiddling with the dials on her pip-boy. Her unscarred and delicate forehead was set in a concentrated frown.

He didn’t want her to probe into their bond. Didn’t want her to learn how to master it. That hurt her more than she’d thought it would. She had liked the idea of sending him her emotions. After all, Anja had never been a people-person, and sharing intimate things like feelings had never been her strong suit. She’d liked the idea of being able to tell him how she felt without actually using awkward words. But he didn’t want that from her.

The sudden rejection was hard to swallow.

He said he had looked after her. He had tried to help her, he said. Anja had thought that meant he cared, but now she wasn’t so sure. If he didn’t want her feelings, then he couldn’t possibly care. He wanted her to talk to him, if she needed it. But what good had talking ever done for her? Nothing, that’s what.

Anja had learned that words were just that out in the wasteland; words. Meaningless noise to distract you from what was real and important. Actions, however, were real. Actions were important.

James and Leena were people of actions. Granted, Leena was smart and crafty with words, but it’s what she did that people remembered. Not what she said. And now the Vault kid and her father were planning even more important actions. James had said something about a purifier that would cleanse the waters of Washington DC and the surrounding wasteland.

Anja scoffed at the thought and put her plate down. In her peripheral vision, she saw Charon look up from his food. She’d like to tell him to mind his own business, to stay out of her head. But she didn’t know how to do that, and she wasn’t even sure he was poking. But he might be. He was annoyingly attentive to her.

She cast him a quick glare, and sure enough, he was watching her. His hazed gray eyes moved from her half-eaten plate and to her. His expression was stoic and unreadable though, so Anja opted to ignore him.

She grabbed her plate again and rose to her feet. “Thanks. I’m done.”

Leena looked up from her pip-boy, dark eyes looking between the plate and Anja. “Already?”

Anja turned around to go and scrape off her plate in the nearby river. “Not my fault you keep handing me more than I can eat.”

“Don’t go far,” James admonished after her. “We don’t know what might be lurking in those waters.”

“I’m hoping for mirelurks,” Anja called back, and strolled away.

 _“Unarmed?”_ The question was firm and not at all hushed.

“Relax. I’m never unarmed,” Anja bit back, hopping a little down the steep hill towards the small river. She almost rolled her eyes at their ignorance. There was no way this part of the river was deep enough for mirelurks to thrive.

The river was calm and dark, and narrow. Not much more than a small stream really. Anja reached it and dumped the remaining food into it, and then leaned forward to wash off her plate. The water temperature was cool, but not uncomfortable. The radiation tingled slightly. Had she been alone, she would have taken a bath. But she wasn’t alone, and she wasn’t sure those people back at the camp would respect her privacy if she lingered for too long.

After washing her plate off, she took a moment to sit back and just enjoy the silence.

She watched the other side of the stream, allowing her mind to wander. She’d been on her own for so long, so many years. She would have thought that suddenly having company and finding herself considering their opinions would be a hard transition. But it wasn’t. It was almost disconcerting how easily she fell into their rhythms.

Maybe, if things had been different, she would have made an excellent citizen for Megaton or Rivet City. Maybe she could still be, sometime in the future.

Did she even want that?

Anja huffed at herself and her own thoughts. The more she thought about those things, doubting her solitude, the lonelier she felt. She’d considered Megaton almost a home, the place she always returned to after a scavenging hunt. But it had always felt lonely, empty. She always ventured out again.

Now however, she wondered if that was partially because of her soulmate. Had she known, in some part of her, that she wasn’t insane? Had some part of her known he was out there, and that she needed to find him?

The bushes above her rustled, further up the hill behind her. Anja didn’t turn to look, knowing it was one of her three travel companions on their way down to wash the remaining plates. She remained quiet, still watching the other side of the stream. The steps that approached were light and soft. Leena’s steps, no doubt.

“Hey,” the Vault girl greeted when she came down, carrying three plates in her hand.

“Hey,” Anja nodded, watching as Leena washed the plates the same way she had done.

“Charon volunteered to come down here you know.” Leena gave her a quick smile. “But I told him to stay.”

“You do know he’s not a dog, right?”

Leena sighed. “Of course, I do. He’s a person. He’s your soulmate, and he’s worried for you.”

“He’s also your slave.” Anja couldn’t help the accusation roll off her tongue. “I think we can debate where his worries lie.”

“That’s not fair of you.” Leena gathered the plates and came over to sit down next to Anja. “He’s obligated to worry for me, but his thoughts are almost always with you.”

“Why? Why do you pretend you care?”

Leena turned her head to look at Anja. Her dark eyes were wide and hurt. “What makes you think I’m pretending?”

Anja held her hand out, the inside of her palm open. “Give me his contract.”

Her action clearly took Leena back, causing her to laugh nervously and stutter. “I- You.. You’re joking right?”

Anja shrugged and lowered her hand. “See? You don’t care.”

“It’s not about that, Anja. I.. I didn’t grow up out here like you did. I don’t think you can imagine how scared I’ve been during these months after I left the Vault, all alone out here. Charon is safety. He’s capable. He can help me see this through.”

Anja laughed, loud and hard. “Help you see _what_ through, exactly? You needed to find your father, you’ve done that. Charon helped you do that. Now you’re taking him with you on your father’s crazy mission. And what happens after that? Oh, I know. There’ll be _another_ mission.”

“You’re hurt. I get that. But I didn’t do this to him. I saved him from a horrible place, and I like to think he’s better off with me than the man who owned him before. Besides, I helped him find you. I helped him keep you alive.”

“You think you saved us both?” Anja glared.

“You’re together, aren’t you?”

Anja sighed. “I suppose.”

They sat back in silence, both watching the river and the other side of the stream. They sat like that for several minutes, not saying anything. Anja slowly came down from her angered outburst. She couldn’t be bothered to snap at the girl that her excuse for keeping Charon was questionable at best. So what she’d been scared? She’d grown up protected and sheltered in a Vault, what did she even know about fear? The people who grew up in the wasteland knew fear. True, soul-crushing and nightmare inducing fear. The kind of fear that would scar even the strongest mind for life. She glanced at Leena, seeing that the girl was gently caressing her own hand, probably soothing her soulmate. Wherever he was.

Perhaps the Vault kid didn’t know much about fear, Anja mused, but she did know how to remedy it. At least others’, if not her own.

“One day, Anja,” the Vault kid finally said, her soft voice hushed and slow. “I’ll give you his contract.”

Anja didn’t respond. Despite her request, in all honesty, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hold her soulmate on a leash like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, Anja finally knows who her soulmate is!  
> This chapter was a tough one to get my head around. I wanted the revelation to come off as a bit anticlimactic, because that’s how messed up things get in the wasteland. But I’m wondering if perhaps Anja is taking things better than she should.  
> Thank you for reading. Comments would certainly be appreciated.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think a warning is appropriate here. This chapter will have a disturbing image of the death of some children. I’ve tried not to be too graphic about it. Because, you know… children. But I needed Leena to be properly motivated for the next chapter.  
> Sorry about that.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Slavers**

 

They had traveled northeast until they found the river, following it east towards the DC. Anja kept to the back of the small party, her eyes scanning their environment every now and then for threats. She didn’t really feel obligated to protect Leena and her father, but while she was with them, she was determined to do her part.

Charon spoke to her a couple of times through the bond, his voice hushed so that his employer wouldn’t hear. He asked her if she was alright, if she needed to talk, or if she needed anything else. But Anja kept silent and pretended she didn’t hear him.

While they traveled, they sometimes took short breaks for scavenging. They checked every building, bunker, gas station and rest stop they came across. It was usually Anja and Leena who checked the buildings while Charon and James kept watch. Sometimes they found edible food, some ammo, or even a few caps. It wasn’t much, but it kept their supplies stocked just above starvation. It takes a lot to feed four people, even if they rationed it down the best they could, and even if Charon refrained from eating more than once a day.

But then they came across Arefu, a small settlement Anja had visited once before, a few years back. She knew Lucy West back in Megaton came from the settlement. As it turned out, Leena had also been there before, because the people greeted the Vault girl with open arms and welcoming smiles.

Apparently, Leena had helped these people fend off some cannibals who thought themselves to be vampires. It had started as a favor to Lucy West, about investigating why Lucy’s parents had stopped answering her letters. The people of Arefu were now protected by their earlier attackers, in exchange for steady donations of blood. They were grateful that the threat had been solved so peacefully, and they were more than happy to trade with the visiting group.

James looked like a smug and proud parent next to Leena, listening to the settlers talk so warmly about his daughter. It made Anja’s throat hurt with a bitter taste, thinking back to her own upbringing and her own ‘father’.

Eric had taught her to survive, but he hadn’t rubbed much compassion or empathy off on her. He’d prepared her for a tough life the only way he knew how, and he’d done it well. She was grateful to him for that, she owed him her survival many times over. Nonetheless, as Anja watched how James hugged his daughter’s shoulders close and smiled warmly, resentment stirred within her. Eric had never given her physical comfort or encouragement. He had never uttered a word of pride or satisfaction when she developed exactly the way he’d wanted. If anything, he had treated her even harder.

Anja kept to herself while the Vault girl and her father traded with the people of Arefu, waiting at the edge of town for them to return. Charon was hovering near Leena, but she saw him look over at her a few times. It made the bitterness even worse to bear, and Anja walked down the bridge until she couldn’t see the town or its people anymore.

Settling to lean on the destroyed wreck of a car, she crossed her arms and waited. It was hard to admit, because Anja had always been fairly comfortable with who se was. But watching how people gravitated towards Leena, and seeing that Leena was everything she wasn’t - it made her feel ugly and petty inside. And she didn’t like that at all.

It made her feel worthless.

What kind of value had she brought to the world anyways, Anja’s darkened state of mind wondered. She didn’t know any living person who relied on her for anything. No one expected her to be there for them, because everyone knew that she wasn’t a helpful person. Sure, she’d brought a message from Gob to Carol in Underworld, but she wouldn’t have gone there at all if she hadn’t been needing supplies.

No one in Megaton cared much about her. The sheriff had kept an eye on her, to make sure she didn’t cause any trouble. Moriarty only wanted her to work at his bar as his whore. Moira relied on her to come by and leave a good number of caps. The Stahl’s sometimes chatted with her when she ate her meals at their diner, but they never greeted her outside of that. Doc Church had fixed her up and knew her physique very well, but he didn’t care about her. Megaton had been her temporary home in between her scavenging hunts for seven years, and Anja still couldn’t name half the people there.

Because she hadn’t cared about _them_ either.

The realization that it was her own damn fault no one cared hurt even more. And it hurt because she didn’t know _how_ to care. She didn’t know how to rely on anyone, how to trust them and how to let them come close. The only person she had ever relied on had disappeared without a trace, and he hadn’t even said goodbye.

Approaching footsteps behind her called Anja back to reality, forcing her mind out from the darkened corners she was mentally cowering into. She turned around, seeing her three travel companions come down the bridge from Arefu.

Leena smiled brightly when she walked past her. James followed close behind, and was also smiling, although it was more of a small tilt in the corners of his mouth. Anja’s green eyes moved over to Charon, walking behind them all, holding his shotgun relaxed in one hand.

The ghoul stopped next to her. He didn’t speak, but his hazed eyes were searchingly looking into hers for several seconds. Anja couldn’t tell what he was thinking, or feeling, because his face wasn’t revealing anything to her. But he kept holding her gaze for long enough to have her skin prickle uncomfortably.

Had he been sneaking around in her head again? Did he know how shitty she felt?

When he finally broke eye contact, it was to incline his head down the bridge, a signal that she should walk. Anja silently obeyed, turning and walking ahead of him. He followed close behind.

**…**

 

They crossed the river to the north side of it, and then continued to follow it east. This time though, Anja was at the front of the progression. The sudden change in position confused her, but she didn’t make a fuzz about it. She knew Leena and James wanted to get to the DC, and she knew the roads well enough to know which routes were safest to travel.

Although safe was a debatable word. They met trouble, of course. Every now and then, they’d stumble across small raider camps or some hostile animals. The group fought them off efficiently enough, much by the help of Charon and Anja. Leena and James were both armed, but they were carrying pistols that didn’t do half as much damage as Charon’s shotgun or Anja’s Chinese assault rifle.

Even if she didn’t have a map on her, Anja still slowed their strides when they passed close to Paradise Falls. It wasn’t far north of Arefu, and she had seen the slaver camp from a distance on her earlier travels. Sometimes, one could come across a small group of them, usually when they moved ‘packages’ to or from their base. The packages though, were people in collars.

The slavers would also send out scouts to keep the area around their base secure, and because of this, Anja muttered caution when they continued. She kept them off the road to minimize the risk of detection, and moved slowly forward.

Even if they were careful, it was bound to happen. Anja spotted people on the road, coming their way, and she hunched down to hide. The three people behind her did the same, although they crawled over to her to also have a look.

“What is that?” Leena asked, watching the group of people approach. They were still far away, looking slightly misshaped at this distance.

“Slavers,” Anja responded quietly. “We don’t want to mess with them.”

“Why not?” Leena asked, narrowing her eyes at the people as they came closer and took shape. She stifled a shocked gasp when she saw what they had with them. “Are those children?”

Anja gave the Vault girl a hard glare. “A pretty face like yours, Leena. I’m sure you can imagine why we’re better off avoiding them.”

“Those are children,” Leena repeated through her teeth.

“As much as this breaks my heart,” James whispered, also looking at the slavers and their captives. “I agree with your friend here. We should leave them alone.”

Leena looked like she was about to protest fiercely, and Anja steeled herself for a confrontation. James was giving his daughter a fatherly and slightly admonishing stare.

“Quiet,” Charon growled, shutting all three of them up.

They watched in silence as the group on the road came closer, three slavers armed heavily, surrounding a group of three children. The kids weren’t bound, but they were wearing collars that blinked red every second, revealing they were armed and active.

Anja noticed that Leena was breathing a little hard, and in her peripheral vision she saw one of Charon’s gloved hands come down on the Vault girl’s shoulder, keeping her still. She realized that he’d probably restrain his employer if he had to, if that meant he kept her safe. It made another, bittersweet taste fill inside her mouth. Everything was about _her_ , wasn’t it?

Tearing her gaze away from her soulmate’s hand on Leena’s shoulder, Anja directed her attention to the group on the road. The group was about to pass them, and the slavers didn’t look like they knew someone was watching.

Leena inhaled slowly, and then exhaled hard. “Charon,” she said through her teeth.

“No,” he responded warningly.

“Yes,” the vault girl insisted. “Let go of me and help me kill those slavers.”

“Leena, no,” Anja whispered in shock, seeing that Charon had already released his grip on the girl and readied his shotgun. “You don’t know what will happen to those kids!” But it was too late. Leena had jumped to her feet and begun moving, with her employee close behind. Anja cursed and picked her assault rifle off the ground, turning to a stunned James. “We better help them.”

The first shot hit dead center, one slaver’s head exploding like a ripe melon when Leena’s carefully lined bullet hit him. For a second, the slavers stood there in stunned silence and watched their dead friend slump to the ground, blood spurting out of the open neck where his head had been. But their silence was short lived. They whirled around, gesturing wildly for the kids to take cover, and began firing at the four fast approaching people.

Anja was focusing her shots at one of the slavers carrying a heavily modified assault rifle. She didn’t see or hear everything around her, but she saw Charon’s hulking figure as he probably shadowed his employer. He was firing steadily, the metallic booms of his shotgun echoing off the stones and cliffs in the area. Anja quickly ducked into cover behind a rock to reload her weapon, and then another and more powerful boom shook the ground. Frag grenades.

Glancing out from her cover, Anja spotted Charon pull his employer behind a rock as well, and shortly after, another loud and devastating boom went off, all too close to their hiding spot. She shifted her position to glance over the rock, seeing the slaver who was throwing the grenades. Aiming her rifle, she began firing at him. A few bullets caught his throwing arm, and he cursed loudly. She kept firing at his head, seeing it shatter and split open at the third bullet. The man dropped to the ground, joining his friend.

Then suddenly she was tackled from the side, and Anja yelled in anger when something smacked her hand hard enough to make her drop her weapon. The third slaver had managed to flank her, and he was carrying a lead pipe. Most likely a backup weapon. He was bleeding hard from his shoulder, tiny scattered bullet wounds that could only come from a shotgun. She prepared herself to fight, to kick him off her, but suddenly he was yanked backwards and away from her by the collar of his armor.

James threw the slaver down, aimed his gun at his head, and fired three quick shots.

With no time to collect herself, Anja scrambled to her feet and began searching for the children. Leena was doing the same, calling for the children to come out of their hiding spots. She saw the kids emerge from a bush, coming towards Leena. And then heir collars began beeping rapidly. Her panicked eyes moved to Charon, and a short second of full understanding flowed between them.

A second later, three small but very concentrated explosions filled the area. Then silence as the air filled with red rain. And then Leena screamed.

  **…**

His employer was a screaming, crying and sniveling mess of tears. Her father James tried to calm her down, and she clung to him like a drowning cat, shaking hard.

Charon and Anja were trying their best to be respectful and delicate about it while they carried the dead children off the road. They searched their pockets, hoping to find something to identify the children with. But they weren’t carrying anything at all. Laying the small bodies down next to each other, they began covering them with rocks. It wasn’t a proper burial, but it was the best they could manage.

The heavy silence between them was broken only by Leena’s constant and devastated cries from back on the road. He glimpsed at Anja’s face several times, seeing that it was set in a hard and angry scowl, and that she was fighting back tears of her own. He had no words of comfort, and he had no desire to say something meaningless, so he remained quiet.

It took a while to cover the children enough to ward off crows and scavenger animals. When they finished, Leena’s hysterical cries had settled into blubbering whimpers. Anja took a moment to stare at the stony graves, worrying her lip between her teeth while a tear to escaped her eye. Charon walked slowly closer, coming to stand next to her. She turned and looked up at him. He still didn’t have anything to say, so he just stood there and looked back at her. His eyes trailed the scarred side of her face, seeing the tear follow the crevice of her scar down her cheek. She swallowed several times, and then she did something he would never have thought she’d do.

Taking a step closer, she suddenly and completely unexpected leaned forward. Charon stood motionless when her forehead met his chest. His hands raised to grab around her, but then he resisted the urge, and they just hovered in the air uselessly. She wasn’t hugging him, she wasn’t even touching him. Her head was lowered, and her forehead rested on his chest. A deep and shivering sigh escaped her, accompanied with a shudder through her body.

Finally daring to move his hands, he laid them on her slim shoulders. Reaching into their bond, her crushing sadness and self-doubt engulfed him. He pushed it back, very gently trying not to intrude on her emotional state.

“Not your fault,” he rasped quietly, trying to send comfort through to her.

She shook her head, but she didn’t respond. His hands clasped a little tighter around her shoulders, the insistent urge to pull her close into an embrace hard to suppress. It was an instinctual urge, and it was unfamiliar and slightly unwelcome. Charon had been physically close to people many times during his career, either by order or by a simple need to quench bodily desires. But he hadn’t been mindful about it, and he hadn’t given comfort, not for as long as he could remember. He wasn’t even sure Anja would appreciate that kind of intimacy from him. He was a ghoul, after all.

So, he just stood there, feeling pretty damn useless, holding his soulmate’s shoulders while she gained control over her sadness.

They stood like that for a while. And when Anja finally straightened, he released her shoulders. He looked intently into her darkly green eyes, still wet from silent tears. “Not your fault,” he repeated slowly, hoping she could believe that.

Taking a few more steadying breaths, she nodded. And they walked back to the road together.

When they returned, his employer had stopped crying. She was still sniffing the remnants of tears away, but she looked like she’d managed to collect herself somewhat. She and her father were busy looting the corpses of the dead slavers, and Leena had just pulled out a large and clunky looking device from one of their bags.

“Hey, look at this,” she said, motioning the others over to her.

Charon stepped closer, hovering around Anja as he did. He gazed over her head at the device in Leena’s hand. It was a large electronical device, resembling a gun.

“That’s a mesmetron gun,” Anja said, her voice hushed. “It’s bigger than I thought.”

“A what-now?” Leena turned the gun in her hand, looking puzzled.

“Non-lethal pacification weapon,” Charon clarified, and the three smoothskins turned to look at him. “It’s how the slavers pacify their victims long enough to slap the collars on them.” By the looks on their faces, he closed his mouth and regretted ever opening it.

“I’ve read about these,” James said and very gently eased it out of his daughter’s hand. “Better be careful with it. Its electric signal will scramble your mental functions. Cognitive functions, to be precise. Leaves you extremely vulnerable to suggestion. The tech is pre-war.” The aged Hispanic man’s eyes moved over to Charon. “It’s not only a pacifier, you know. This will work with hypnosis and conditioning as well. Brainwashing, if you like.”

“Is that how you were trained?” Anja asked, looking between the gun and him.

“No,” he shook his head a little. “Don’t think so.”

“So, they stun people with this gun, and then slap the charged metal collars on them. And then what?” Leena said, her dark gaze moving between them. “How did they detonate the collars? More importantly, how do they deactivate them?”

“Perhaps a radio signal?” James suggested, looking down at the mesmetron gun. “I didn’t find anything left from the collars, but we can’t rule out the possibility that they have some kind of transmitter on them.”

“What else do you know about it, Charon?” Leena asked.

He balked inwardly, but his mouth obeyed. “Some of the collars have microphones, so the slavers can listen in on everything.” Everyone’s attention was on him again, and it made his hands clench. “A few have small cameras, but those are expensive and rare. Every collar is installed with a tracker than sends a signal to a receiver connected to a terminal, allowing the slavers to know where they are at all times.” He noticed the others grow wary while he talked. His soulmate, in particular, was looking very uncomfortable. “Every explosively charged collar is also programmed with a detonation code, and the code can be transmitted back to the collar’s tracker.”

The three smoothskin humans were silent for several long seconds, looking at him with surprise. Charon relaxed his face into the stoic expression he always used, knowing the question that would soon come. And knowing who would ask it.

“How do you know all this?” Anja’s voice was slow and hesitant.

Charon looked steadily at her. “I am old, and I’ve had many employers.”

“Right,” Leena sighed. “So where are the slavers now?”

“Paradise Falls,” Charon answered. He was still looking at Anja, even though she had removed her gaze to look at his employer.

“And where’s that?” She brought her pip-boy up and studied the map.

Charon abandoned his interest in his soulmate’s face and marked the location on his employer’s pip-boy. “Not far.”

“Let’s go.” Leena said and turned from them. She began packing, stuffing some of the loot from the slavers down into her bag while she spoke. “If we hurry, we can reach it by nightfall.”

“What?” Anja and James asked in unison, both of them looking at Leena with disbelief.

The Vault girl continued to pack without looking at them. “We’re going to take them out. All of them.”

Charon could feel his neck prickle at that, his obligation to the contract and his desire to protect his soulmate already tearing at him.

“Are you insane?!” Anja stuttered, walking over to Leena to stop her. “Do you have any idea how dangerous they are? They can kill us all! We don’t even know how many they are.”

Finished with her equipment, Leena also grabbed one of the slaver’s discarded guns, hoisting it onto her back along with her duffle bag. She huffed and moved to start walking. Charon quickly stepped forward and stopped her, blocking her way without touching her.

“Reconsider this,” he grumbled, glaring hard down at her. “This is a very dangerous decision. You risk getting us all killed.” Without wanting to, his eyes flicked to Anja while he spoke.

His employer shook her head. “Those people enslaved and killed three children. I will not stand by and let that happen again. You’re coming with me.” She pointed her finger at Charon’s chest, and then turned to her father and Anja. “You two decide if you want to help or not. But me and him are going.”

“Leena, honey,” James begged. “Don’t do this. Please.”

Leena practically barked her response, and seconds later father and daughter were arguing heatedly. But Charon wasn’t paying attention to that. He saw that Anja had also begun packing, plucking a few items from the pile of loot. When she shouldered her weapon, Charon dashed forward and ripped it from her with a frown.

“No,” he growled quietly. “Not happening.”

Anja tugged at the assault rifle in his hands to get it back, but he didn’t budge. “Yes. I’m going with you.”

“No. You’re not.” He lifted the weapon up and away from her reach. “You’ll get yourself killed. Or worse, enslaved!” Worry and rage filled him, along with a tightly coiled fear that threatened to come undone. Slavers had been on her trail before. She had been on their radar before, and she could still be. Her training and upbringing, along with her rather favorable looks - both would make her a valuable possession. Any male would want a slave that was both a fierce bodyguard and a submissive fuck-toy. The full package.

Anja was pushing at him and trying to reach for her weapon. Charon’s reeling mind finally got the better off him, and he lost his patience. Releasing his mental hold on their bond, everything he felt came crushing down on her with full force. “Enough!” he bellowed, knowing she could hear it inside her head as well.

The forceful experience of his rage had Anja recoil and fall backwards, away from him. A thick wave of fear came in return, and Charon quickly readjusted his tight hold on the bond, ending the exchange. He vaguely registered that his outburst had Leena and James silence behind him. But Charon didn’t care. His attention was on his soulmate, on the ground, looking quite terrified of him.

Lowering her weapon, he crouched to his haunches in front of her, trying not to crowd her too much. “Remember when you were caught by mutants a while back?” he asked, voice lowered and calmer now. “Remember the fear when you escaped, because you saw someone in the group that attacked the mutants. It was someone you didn’t know, but you still ran because I urged you to it.”

Anja nodded wide-eyed, mouth halfway open, still looking shocked.

“Those men were slavers. And the man with them was someone I know to be a particularly bad individual. That fear you felt, that was all mine. Because I feared what would happen to you if he caught you.” He looked intently at her, needing her to understand.

“Who is he?” Her voice was a soft and hoarse whisper.

“His name is Forty. I have met him a few times, during my earlier employment.” He reached his hand out for her, waiting patiently until she took it. When she did, he rose to his full height, pulling her up with him.

Anja looked at him with a small frown. “You don’t understand, do you? I need to come with you.” She held up a hand to silence his protests, her eyes were big. “What if Leena dies? What if the slavers take your contract? What happens then?”

“If they take my contract, you need to run as fast as you can,” Charon responded. And then it finally dawned on him what she meant. A new type of fear settled in his stomach. If slavers took his contract, and then figured out that Anja was his soulmate, she would forever be running from him. Forever running from someone who could see everything she did, feel everything she felt, hear everything she heard. Someone who as it also happens, was a good tracker and fast hunter to begin with. And Charon knew, deep down, that she wouldn’t get far.

He wasn’t sure they knew who she was. It had been years since the slavers had known about her existence, not since Eric was alive. Charon couldn’t even be sure they’d figure out the bond between Anja and himself. But if he had been terrified that Ahzrukhal was going to find out, fearing the slavers would find out was a whole new league.

If Leena died, he couldn’t take his own contract off her body. He couldn’t even touch it. But Anja however, could.

Finally giving her a defeated nod, he handed the weapon back to her. “Alright. But you stay close to Leena and me. Stay within visual at all times.”

Anja took the weapon with a nod.


	12. Chapter 12

**When Paradise Falls**

 

Anja, Charon, and Leena reached Paradise Falls before midnight. James had decided to continue his journey towards Rivet City. His mission there was a lot more important to him and the overall inhabitants of the wasteland. Slavers, he explained, would be a dying breed soon enough anyways. He had still admonished them to be careful, and he had hugged his daughter close for a long time.

Paradise Falls looked intimidating when they approached, a before the war big shopping mall, now turned into the biggest slave-trade enterprise in the wasteland. Charon had been there before, and his tactical guidance was invaluable as they planned their assault.

It had only one way in, and that was through the guarded main gate. Most of the slavers would be inside a second set of gates, close to the shops and the sleeping quarters. The slave pens were at the far back of the facility.

Leena suggested they tried to trick their way in by disguising Anja as a slave, and herself and Charon as her captors. Charon had looked very angered and frightening when he dissuaded that suggestion, but Anja and Leena glanced at each other, wondering if it could work.

Leena argued that it would at least get them inside. Anja made a point of arguing that maybe she could get to the terminal that controlled the slaves’ collars, deactivating them and enabling the slaves to help kill their captors.

“The terminal is inside Eulogy’s pad,” Charon dismissed rather roughly. “You don’t want to go there under the disguise as a slave.”

“Why not?” Anja asked.

The look Charon gave her made her spine freeze. “Because he only takes slaves there with the intention to fuck them.”

“What if we make sure she has a hidden weapon on her?” Leena suggested carefully.

Charon rounded on her like a behemoth ready to tear her limbs off. “I said no!”

Even though she was his employer, Leena visibly cowered. Anja quickly stepped in between them. Although she was grateful that Charon was trying to keep her as much out of harm’s way as he could, his reaction to this entire ordeal was puzzling. She understood he was cautious about this Forty guy he’d warned about, but that still didn’t govern for this level of distress. Forty was just a guy, a human man that would bleed and die if shot at.

“Easy there,” Anja said, trying to cool down the temperature a bit. “Leena, I really don’t want that kind of attention, ok? Let’s think of something else.”

“Fine. _I’ll_ go. I can play the slave,” the Vault girl growled. And then she cringed, eyes closing. She was silent for a moment, frowning. When she spoke again, it was clear that’s she wasn’t speaking to Anja or Charon. “Stop yelling at me, will you? I get it. We’re not using ourselves as bait.”

“I’m glad he agrees,” Anja commented dryly, watching the Vault girl as she opened her eyes again, looking frustrated and a bit shaken. “Does your… uh, mate there, have any suggestions?”

Leena didn’t answer for a long time, her dark eyes introverted and distant. Anja and Charon waited, glancing at each other a little meanwhile. It was odd to be on the outside and watch someone have a mental conversation like that. Was that how she looked when Charon spoke to her, she wondered.

The Vault kid’s eyes finally adjusted to look at Anja and Charon, and she smiled a little. “He says to ask Charon what a kill zone is.”

**…**

Anja and Leena watched from a hiding place behind some rocks while Charon strolled up to the entrance of Paradise Falls. When the guy on watch spotted him, the ghoul raised his hands to signal peace. The man had his gun aimed at him, and he motioned him to come closer.

Charon stepped up to the table the man had been sitting at. Anja held her breath, watching the man and the ghoul exchange words that didn’t reach to hers and Leena’s hiding place. The human man laughed roughly and lowered his weapon, taking a step to the side to allow Charon passage.

The ghoul stepped forward, saying something to the man. He reached his arm out to grab the man’s shoulder. As if she was watching a slow movie, Anja saw the man flinch slightly away from the large ghoul, while the ghoul used his free hand behind his back to pull a combat knife out from his belt. Then his movements hastened, swiftly grabbing the man’s shoulder and bringing the knife forward. He twisted his body slightly, quickly sidestepping and rounding on the man, his armed hand swinging the knife and digging it deep into the back of the man’s neck.

The man froze, his face twisted in shock and gaping surprise. He took a stumbling step forward, and just before he was about to fall to his knees, Charon grabbed him to prevent him fall. The large ghoul held the man, guiding his lifeless slump to the ground, silently laying him down.

The whole thing had happened in just a few seconds, and Anja’s gut twisted in a mixture between awe and fear. Charon was an effective killer, she’d give him that.

Once the guard was lying on the ground, still bleeding but definitely dead, Charon rose from the corpse, slowly turning his head towards the women’s hiding place. He beckoned them over, signaling that it was clear for them to join him.

“Wow,” Leena breathed as she rose from her hunched position. “I mean, I’ve seen him kill before. But this…” she paused and bit her words down.

Anja also rose from her position, watching Charon wait for them as they approached. She didn’t say anything to him, but she did give him a timid and small smile.

The three of them entered further into the first area of the compound, arming and laying out frag mines as they went. They placed the mines strategically where people were most likely to step, pushing them into the sand to cover them up as much as possible. They worked in silence, slowly closing in on the second check point of the place; a wall made out of an old city bus with closed doors. On the other side of the doors, they heard voices.

Finally finished with the frag mines, Charon gave the women a nod and waved them off. The women darted into the ruined concrete to find cover, pulling out their weapons. They saw Charon take cover closer to the gate. Then he grabbed a grenade from his belt and pulled the pin. He threw it over the bus gate, expertly aiming it in between the metal supporters if the large sign above the gate. The grenade flew low and landed not far from the doors on the other side.

The grenade went off with a shattering boom that blew the bus doors wide open. Loud and angry shouting followed shortly after, and the slavers came pouring out of the ruined gate.

It was a busy fight. Anja fired and reloaded her assault rifle as quickly she could, desperately trying to hold off the slavers coming towards hers and Leena’s position. Leena was slow, but deadly accurate with her .44 magnum gun. Charon kept shooting from his own cover, luring them towards him and the frag mines on the ground.

When the first of the mines went off, it sent two slavers through the air, dust and dirt following like a small cloud. Charon grabbed hold of his hat to prevent it from flying off him, shielding his eyes in the same motion. Anja ducked into cover with her teeth clenched, feeling the pain from a stray object lodge itself into her shoulder. She had no time to linger on the wound, and smoothly rose out of her cover to keep firing when the dust had settled. Charon was already firing his own gun.

For a few minutes, the fight looked like it was going in their favor. Several more mines went off, and more slavers fell. The gunfire grew less and less frantic, giving Anja the break she needed to time her shots more accurately.

Then two men kicked their way out of the gates. Both holding heavy and deadly looking super sledges. One of the men was a large and very handsome blonde man. The other man was also large, but he was older and had darker colors. They both charged towards Charon, and he kept shooting while quickly backing away from them. Anja and Leena aimed for their legs, their hands, and their heads. But nothing seemed to slow them down. The younger man paused to turn his attention to the women.

Anja’s perception slowed again. She saw the older man rush up to Caron, swinging his sledgehammer sideways. The ghoul saw the blow coming and used his plated shoulder to shield himself from it. But the blow was powerful and almost knocked him off his feet. The man pulled back, gaining strength in momentum for another blow. Anja fired at his head, quickly and frantically, until her gun clicked miserably and feebly.

The second blow sent the ghoul sprawling, losing his grip on his shotgun.

Blood rushing in her ears, Anja acted on instinct. Discarding her gun, she pulled her knife from her boot and dashed out of cover, ducking and sliding out of the young man’s range, hearing Leena shriek something behind her as she did. She wasn’t listening, green eyes focused on the older man as he raised his sledgehammer over his head, ready to give the scrambling ghoul a killing blow.

She came up behind him and jumped onto his back, stabbing her knife into the soft and exposed tissue in his throat. He stumbled and lost his balance for just a moment. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for the sledgehammer to miss Charon’s head, giving him time to roll away and to safety.

The man snarled and grabbed above him to pry the much smaller woman off his back. Anja held on tightly, pulling the knife back only to stab him again. And again. The man roared with a gurgling sound and began swirling, trying to shake her off him. He backed into a concrete wall, pushing hard against it, crushing the air out of her lungs. But Anja was still holding onto him.

The man tried grabbing her again, only this time lower, going for her feet. Horror struck her when she felt his large hand wrap tightly around her ankle, and he pulled a knife from his belt. The pain when his knife entered her calf was sharp and hot, and Anja lost her strength to hold onto him. He pulled harder at her leg and swung her around, using her weight against her as he threw her off him.

For a second, Anja was weightless. But then she came to a brutal halt when her body collided painfully with the old city bus. Sliding down the wall, she saw the man take a moment to breathe, blood flowing steadily from the stab wounds in his throat. His gloved hand raised to cover the wounds, and he glared a promise of death at her. Behind him, she saw Charon and Leena finish off the younger man.

The man in front of her raised his sledgehammer, coming towards her. Anja closed her eyes and shielded her head.

Several gunshots filled the air again, the booming metallic sound of a combat shotgun, and the sharper and ear-splitting sound of a smaller gun. A loud thump followed shortly after. She opened her eyes again just in time to see the man collapse to the ground, sprawling out next to his dropped sledgehammer. Behind him, Charon and Leena approached, still holding their weapons ready, but both of them looking at her.

Collecting her feet under her, she tried to stand. The sharp pain in her calf made her leg give in, and she fell again. She was shaking hard from adrenaline, and merely sat there and watched as her two companions hunched down in front of her.

“Are you insane?” Charon grumbled, his ghoulish rough voice was shaking, and he was breathing hard. “What were you thinking?”

“You’re welcome,” Anja stuttered back, also breathing hard.

Leena moved her attention to Anja’s leg, and then pulled the knife still stuck in her calf out. Anja couldn’t help the guttural growl of pain that escaped her. The vault girl pulled out a stimpak and inspected the wound before administrating it.

Charon leaned forward to inspect the wound in Anja’s shoulder. “Wait,” he barked, effectively stopping Leena from injecting the stim. “She’s got something in her shoulder.”

Leena crept closer and also inspected her shoulder. “It’s a piece of metal. Maybe from the mines.”

“Just get it out of me,” Anja muttered, blinking hard a few times to focus on the two in front of her. “It’s just a flesh wound. Take it out. We might not have much time before more slavers come.”

Charon gave her a quick glance and nodded, bringing out a knife he then handed to his employer. Leena accepted it without hesitation.

They helped Anja pull away as much of her clothing as possible, to allow better access to the wound. The Vault kid poked the knife into the wound a little, to assess how big and deep the object was, and then her dark eyes moved to Anja’s.

“Ready?”

“Just do it. Hurry.” Anja barked, grabbing hold of her own pants to have something solid to grasp.

Leena’s hands were steady and unflinching when she began cutting into Anja’s shoulder, opening the wound enough to get a better view of the piece of metal. Anja groaned, but didn’t move away. She closed her eyes and took deep and controlled breaths, trying not to feel anything.

The metal object was removed with a sleek and wet sound, earning another painful and high pitched and very girlish shriek from Anja.

“There,” Leena hummed, pouring some purified water over the wound before she administered the stimpak.

Anja thanked and opened her eyes, meeting Charon’s hazy gaze. The ghoul looked just as stoic and cold as he always did, looking right at her. He moved back to his haunches and grabbed her arm, pulling her up with him when he stood. Anja could already feel her skin knit and twist back together, the wounds closing, leaving just a thin and barely visible scar behind.

“Alright,” she said, taking her assault rifle back from Charon and loading it with practiced ease, slamming her palm into the side of it, unjamming it. “Let’s clear out the rest of this place. I’m getting hungry.”

**…**

The three of them pressed forward, deeper into the slaver compound, guns ready and eyes sharp. Charon took the lead while the two women watched his flanks. The area was dark and quiet, but they knew there were slavers around. Charon had said he hadn’t seen Forty or Eulogy Jones amongst the slavers they had killed outside.

Anja watched Charon with worry. He was pulling his leg a little, and his unharmed shoulder was obviously compensating for the wounded one. His face was set in concentration, eyes sharp and narrowed as they stepped further into the heart of Paradise Falls. He reminded her all too much of a wounded deathclaw on the hunt.

Shuddering a little, she gazed into the shadows of the buildings while she followed Charon’s lead. She saw that they passed several buildings with signs. A clinic, a bar, a gun shop. All quiet.

“Here,” the ghoul eventually said, motioning for the women look. “Eulogy’s pad. Where he keeps his control terminal. We should be able to deactivate the slaves’ collars from it.”

“Where are the slaves?” Leena questioned, dark eyes darting around at the shadows just like Anja’s.

“They are kept in pens at the far back. No point in going there before we’ve deactivated their collars.”

“Okay,” Leena nodded. “That’s reasonable, I guess.”

Anja took deep and steady breaths as they approached the building, feeling more edgy and nervous than she had in a long time. Must be the remaining adrenaline from the first fight, she concluded. Her steps were cautious and timed, just like Charon’s.

They surrounded the door, and Leena moved to open it while Anja and Charon took position with their weapons aimed. Staying clear off the door, Leena reached out and pulled it door open. Charon quickly stepped inside, searching for enemies. Anja beckoned Leena to go in after him, and then she turned to make another visual sweep at the area before also stepping inside the house.

With her back to the open door, she heard it creak, and then click as it swung shut and closed. She whirled around and tried the handle, but the door was locked. Just then did she notice the wires around the door - a telltale sign that the door was electronically controlled. Shortly after, she heard gunfire inside the building. Her heart violently leapt up her throat, and she quickly stepped back to aim her gun at the lock.

Then a male voice spoke behind her, and his malicious tone made her skin crawl. “Well, well. Look who it is. Eric’s little foster child.”

Whirling around again, weapon aimed and finger already on the trigger, Anja felt herself pale when she saw who it was. She immediately recognized the face, although she had seen in only once before in her life, in the dark, while he was fighting super mutants.

The man stood right in front of her, grinning wickedly, making his mustache tilt at the edges. His eyebrows though, were sharp and shaped into a frown. His short mohawk was perfectly groomed.

“Forty,” she said in an exhale, still holding him dead center in her aim. She could still hear gunfire inside the building behind her, and by the sound of it, her companions had their hands full.

The man raised his eyebrows. “You know who I am?” Without waiting for an answer, he stepped closer, indiscreetly eyeing her weapon. He smiled again. It was a bone-chilling and dark kind of smile that made ice flow into her veins.

“Stay there. Or I _will_ shoot you,” she warned between clenched teeth.

The man obediently stopped, but his eyes glinted of malice. “Why haven’t you already?”

She took a short and threatening step towards him, feeling the stiff motions in her body, the tension in her stance. “How do you know who I am?”

“Ahh,” he grinned. “So that’s why. You wanna know what I know, is that it?” Obviously feeling more confident, he took another step closer to Anja and her gun, moving slowly to take it from her. “Well, scrub. It’s gonna co-“

He was cut short by the butt of Anja’s gun bashing into his face. A wet crunch followed the sound, and the man stumbled backwards, clutching at his bleeding nose. She didn’t dare try to tug at Charon’s attention. By the sound of the gunfire inside the building, he was most likely very busy.

“Start talking!” she barked and walked slowly after Forty when he backed away from her, aiming at him again.

“You broke my nose, bitch!”

“I’ll break a lot more if you don’t start talking.”

“Fuck! Alright. Calm down. Let’s talk.”

He backed further away when she approached, suddenly apprehensive about her. It almost made her laugh. Had he thought she’d be some cowering little girl begging for mercy? Like one of his slaves? But she didn’t laugh. Because this situation wasn’t at all funny. Instead, Anja raised an eyebrow expectantly at him. The gunfire in the building behind her was slowing down its intensity.

The man wiped his nose several times, frowning and glaring menacingly at her. “Eric? Your dearly departed foster father? He wasn’t the man you thought he was.”

“Was he a slaver, like you?” Anja almost spat the words out.

“Nah, not like that. But he was a trader, and we payed him well for his goods.”

She already knew Eric had been a trader. That was the whole point of scavenging; to sell the loot you gather. Although she hadn’t known he dealt with slavers, trading goods with them didn’t seem like such an awful thing to do. Immoral, perhaps. But not awful. Anja narrowed her eyes at Forty. “So? What does that have to do with me?”

Forty laughed. His laugh was deep and raspy at the same time, making the hairs on her back stand. “You have no clue, do you sweetheart?”

Anja aimed lower and fired her gun. The man screamed and hopped around, trying to clutch at his bleeding foot. The gunfire in the building behind her had stopped. Slowly raising her gun at his face again, she grinned and locked her eyes into his.

“I can to this all night,” she threatened slowly. “Next one goes into your ankle. And then I’ll slowly work my way upwards to your knee. And your thigh. And your dick. Time’s ticking Forty.”

A bloody hand shot out to her, gesturing to make her stop. “Alright. Fuck!” Taking a few deep breaths, he gathered his strength. “Eric traded with us for supplies. He didn’t talk about you, but come on. What’s a grown man gonna do with a little girl’s jumpsuit, huh? We knew he was hiding something.”

“If he didn’t talk about me, how do you know who I am?”

“Oh, he talked about you alright. You see, Eric began trading on credit when he couldn’t bring in enough goods to pay for what he took.”

It was as if someone had knocked the air out of her. Anja’s vision flickered a little, her stomach rolled uncomfortably. All the clothes Eric had brought her, all the little children’s things, maybe even the weapons. Everything had been stripped away from slaves. Swallowing the bile that rose in her throat, she finally dared a tug at Charon’s attention. Shortly after, she was rewarded by loud and heavy banging on the door behind her. It sounded as if someone was throwing their body at the door. Swallowing another time, she desperately hoped it was Charon and Leena on the other side of it.

The man continued; “Eventually, Eulogy and I started to ask questions. And what do you think the good old Eric had in his possession that would be valuable to us?”

“Me,” she stated, slowly realizing what this slaver was truly saying. “Eric made a deal for me.”

Forty grimaced, limping and trying to find a good stance that didn’t upset his bleeding foot too much. “Not exactly. But when word caught up with us that he’d met his death in the DC ruins… We went looking for you.” The man laughed again, slightly hysterical and loudly. “And you don’t even know who killed him, do you?”

“Who killed him?”

A loud crash from behind her startled Anja into pulling the trigger. The bullet missed Forty’s head by just an inch, and he ducked. Anja turned her head slightly, seeing Charon step out of the doorway, forcibly ripping what remained of the door off its hinges. He looked absolutely furious. Pulling his shotgun forward, he aimed it at Forty and stepped over to Anja’s side.

Meanwhile, Forty had obviously realized defeat, raising his hands. His eyes moved between Anja and Charon, and his face twisted into a mocking grin. He inclined his head to Charon, but had his eyes locked with Anja’s. “He did.” And then he laughed again.

And then Charon shot him.

**…**

 

Anja had wandered off. To where, Charon had no idea. He trailed behind his employer, eyes scanning the ruins of Paradise Falls while they approached the slave pens, searching for her small figure. Whenever he reached into their bond, all he saw was a dulled darkness that only told him she had her eyes open, but that she was sitting in the dark somewhere.

Her emotions were still. Unnervingly so.

Focusing his attention to his employer, he watched while she opened the pen gates. One middle-aged male slave stepped forward, shaking and looking malnourished and terrified.

“We heard the shooting,” he stuttered. “Our collars are off. Does that mean they’re..”

“Dead,” Leena smiled gently. “You’re free to leave.”

The man’s lower lip quivered, and he fell to his knees, right in front of Leena. A deep and shuddering sob escaped him, and he leaned forward, almost worshipping her feet. “Thank you. Thank you, kind child.”

Leena gently leaned down to help him back onto his feet. “It’s okay.” Her smile was a little timid this time, clearly uncomfortable with the man’s gesture. The man kissed her small hands several times, repeating his thanks, still crying.

Then other slaves came out of the pens after him, all of them thanking her, all of them crying. Leena stood there to greet them all, smiling, telling them they should take anything they needed from this place, and then go back to their homes. To their families.

Charon stood a little to the side and watched. The freed slaves merely glanced at him, and then shied away from his presence. He didn’t mind. He didn’t need their thanks. Had it been up to him, none of this would’ve happened in the first place.

His eyes settled on Leena, this young Vault dweller who wouldn’t take no for an answer and was practically unstoppable when she set her mind on something. Charon found himself admiring her willpower and kind nature, but even so, his hatred for her had never been deeper.

She’d saved these slaves. She was a genuinely good person. But she didn’t care what consequences her kindness had. And that was a flaw Charon found it hard to overlook.

Children also came out of the pens, and Leena crouched down to their level, talking with them for a long time. He overheard something about Little Lamplight, and that Leena was welcome there anytime she wanted.

The children didn’t shy away from him like the adults did. They tanked him, all of them touching his hand lightly as they passed him. Charon nodded them off stiffly.

Once all the slaves were freed, Leena turned to him. Her smile was bright and happy, and she had tears in her eyes. “You can’t say this doesn’t make you feel good?”

Charon didn’t reply. He looked at her without emotion, waiting for an order, a command. Anything besides this teary-eyed self-smugness she was trying to project onto him.

Nodding a few times, listening inwards at what he assumed was the words of her own soulmate, she wiped her tears away. “Right. You’re right.” Her eyes slowly shifted up at Charon. “We should camp here tonight.”

“Not a good idea,” he rasped, frowning. “More slavers will come. This place isn’t safe.”

“Just for a few hours. I need to sleep. And Anja’s going to need some rest as well. Where is she, by the way?”

“Don’t know,” he said, shrugging outwardly but growling inwardly. Did she just _now_ notice they were missing their third companion?

“Go find her. I’ll heat some food,” she ordered, waiving him off, even though she was the one walking away. “I think I saw a grill in the bar.”

Charon quietly watched her leave, and then he reached into the bond again. It was still dark around his soulmate. The air felt stale, moist. It was a little cold too. Bathroom perhaps? He spotted the signs to a bathroom, and immediately began walking towards it.

“If you’re hiding in the bathrooms, don’t be alarmed. I’m coming in there.” He spoke quietly, trying to make his destroyed vocal cords sound as reassuring as possible.

His soulmate shifted her position slightly. _“Don’t. Stay away.”_

“Can’t do that.” Inwardly, he cursed. He understood she needed space and privacy right now, but his feet still walked towards the bathrooms, following orders. Leena had said to find her, but nothing more. So that’s what he’d do - find her.

A small annoyance came through the bond from his soulmate. _“Leave me alone.”_

Charon walked up to the door, pausing. “You can come outside if you want. But if you don’t, I’m coming in there.” It sounded like a threat, and maybe it was. He had to go in there, regardless of what she said.

_“Fuck off.”_

With a sigh, Charon pushed the door open, stepping inside the dark bathroom. Reaching out his hand over the wall next to the door, he flipped the light switch. One single light-bulb further into the room blinked to life, flickering angrily several times, before it settled to flicking unevenly every second.

He spotted her immediately, sitting on the floor with her back against the wall, holding her rifle across her knees and glaring up at him. Her eyes were narrowed by the sudden light disturbing her eyes. Blood from her healed wounds soaked her clothes, and she was sporting a bruised lip as well. Now that he’d found her, Charon stopped in the doorway, not entering the room.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“To find you. Leena’s orders.”

His response had her grimace a little, and then she set her rifle down to the floor, sighing.

“Of course. _Leena._ What does _she_ want, then?” She folded her hands in her lap, looking expectantly at him.

“She’s heating some food. And both of you need to get some sleep before we move on.” His raspy voice echoed a little in the tiled room.

“You do know I’m not under her command, right? She can’t boss me around, and that means _you_ can’t boss me around.”

Charon inhaled slowly, trying, and failing, to bite down his response. “Well, technically-”

“Oh, shut up,” she scoffed, hopping to her feet and grabbing her gun. “I know how it works. Leena gives and order, and you come in here ready to manhandle me in any way she sees fit. Am I right?” While she spoke, she walked towards him, and Charon moved aside so she could exit the bathroom.

He fell into a slow walk beside her, and his forehead dipped into a frown. “No. She said to find you, and I did. How you interpret that into manhandling is beyond me.”

Anja scoffed again, but she didn’t turn to go back into the bathroom. She was walking at a leisure pace that had him slow his longer strides so that he didn’t walk away from her. He was watching her face and the way she was glancing at him, eyes hurt and wounded.

His frown dipped even further. “I wouldn’t manhandle you if I could avoid it. I will _never_ hurt you, if I can avoid it.” Something inside him wanted to grab her to a stop, so that he could look at her fully, and hopefully speak with her. But Anja didn’t look like she would appreciate that, so he stayed his hands. 

His response earned a hardened and sarcastic laugh from her. “You already did though, didn’t you? Seven years ago, when you killed my father? You didn’t think that was going to hurt me?”

That was it. The cause of her distress. Throwing his concerns for what she would and wouldn’t appreciate out the window, he grabbed her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. Anja balked and shook his hand off her, glaring at him.

Charon looked steadily into her eyes, speaking slowly. “Did you not hear what Forty said? What do you think would’ve happened to you if Eric hadn’t died?”

Anja gaped in disbelief. “So, it’s true? You really did kill him?”

“I did,” he acknowledged with a short nod, still holding her gaze. He was not about to apologize for saving her life that time. Saving her from a fate that was certain to be worse than death. After all, few people knew as well as him just how fucked up life as a slave could get. And Anja had been only 12 years old at the time. Sill a child.

She stared at him, still in shock, breathing hard. Her breaths intensified, eyes quickly shifting back and forth between his own while her rage increased at the same pace as her breaths, and then she yelled. “ _You_ -! You took away the only person who has _ever_ cared about me!”

Charon’s own anger sparked in tune with hers, building inside him like lightning about to strike. “Cared about you?” he repeated, looking hard down at her. “ _Cared_? You’re talking about a man who beat you for his own amusement!”

“It wasn’t for his amusement! He was teaching me how to survive!”

“He sure as fuck made a point of laughing about it.”

“He didn’t….” She shifted her stance and began pacing in front of him, agitation making it hard to stay still. “I was twelve, and you killed him.”

Charon stayed still, but he was constantly restraining his own temper. “Exactly,” he growled. “You were a child. A child he beat. A child he would eventually have sold to these slavers to pay off his debt.”

Anja suddenly turned on him, still yelling. “I was alone! Because of _you_ , I was alone!” And then she charged at him.

She attacked him with her fists, screaming in anger and frustration. Charon froze, barely moving when she tried to push him off his balance. He didn’t try to restrain her, didn’t try to push her away. She was cursing and yelling, and crying. He didn’t have to reach into their bond to know what she was feeling, and he didn’t want to.

“Fight me back, damn you!” Anja cursed and tried to punch him, but he merely leaned away, and her fists met only air.

Looking over her head and further off, he saw his employer appear, drawn by the noise. She looked at them wide-eyed and approached slowly.

Anja made another attempt at tackling him, panting hard of her own exhaustion, grunting in frustration when he didn’t budge an inch. Charon looked down at her, wanting to stop her, pull her into an embrace if he had to. Her tears were running freely, and her throat was hoarse from yelling. Her hair was a complete mess.

“Why.won’t.you.fight?!” Finally pushing herself off from him, she glared up at him, her chest rising and falling with every strained breath.

“Anja?” Leena asked carefully, making Anja whirl around to face her. “What’s going on?”

Charon saw his soulmate’s shoulder lower in a deep exhale, and she turned back to look up at him. Her eyes were hard as steel while she considered him for a second, and then she turned back to his employer.

“You won’t fight me?” she said over her shoulder as she walked towards Leena.

Charon’s skin began to prickle uncomfortably, trying to pretend he didn’t know what she was going to do. Because if he knew, he would be forced to stop her. He watched as Anja walked closer to Leena, and then she turned to look at him again. With deft hands, she unholstered her 10mm gun from her hip, aiming it at his employer’s head.

“How ‘bout now?” she asked, and her voice was firm and angry.

Charon charged forwards, closing the distance between them in three long strides. His mind was quickly evaluating the most efficient and least painful way to disarm her. But his attack was cut short by a single, sharp gunshot.

His mind slowed, seeing Anja’s face twist in surprise and pain when the side if her chest exploded in red. She dropped the weapon, hand coming to rest over the bloody wound. Stumbling forwards, her eyes lifted to meet his, her dark green ones already darkening further. He caught a sudden rush of her feelings when she reached for him through the bond; sadness, grief and guilt. But it was short. And then she slumped to the ground, heavy and lifeless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the cliffhanger. I'll try to update again soon :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm so sorry about the cliffhanger in the previous chapter.  
> This chapter is a bit heavy on dialogue and internal reflection. Sorry, but not sorry about that XD Also, there’s a teeny tiny bit of awkward sexual tension here.

**Crossroads**

 

Charon wasn’t happy. His employer wasn’t happy. Everything was a fucking mess and it was his fault, again.

Leena was furious, but she still fell to her knees beside Anja and quickly cleaned her wound, using several stimpaks to stop the bleeding and make it heal. She kept stuttering curses at him. Her dark eyes were teary and hard, and she cursed Anja too. Cursed her for being such a bitch, cursed her for being so much trouble.

Charon picked Anja up from the ground once the wound had stopped bleeding, carrying her off to find somewhere more appropriate for her to heal. Leena followed, quietly berating him with her eyes after taking a quick glance at the dead slave. One of the men she’d freed.

He knew this whole mess could have been avoided if he’d handled his soulmate differently. If he’d apologized and asked her to forgive him. If he’d reached out to hold her still, tried to comfort her or at least calm her temper. But he’d done nothing. He’d just stood there like an idiot and watched her spiral into a frustrated fury that took away her common sense.

Anja was tough, he knew that. She had always been collected and fairly sensible in the past. She’d never been one to look for trouble she couldn’t handle, and she was a survivalist in every way. But Charon knew better now. He should’ve known not to expect her to handle things so well anymore. After all, he’d taken everything she thought she knew about herself and transformed it into uncertainty. The knowledge about him and their bond had shaken the very foundation of her existence, and he _should’ve known_ that.

His soulmate needed his support. She needed him to respond to her grief and anger. She _needed_ him to be there for her, even if it was his fault she was grieving and angry. Or perhaps especially because of that. But he’d just stood there and watched. Like an idiot.

He wasn’t a people person. He wasn’t good at talking. He was good at taking orders, quietly acting out the wishes and demands of his employers. He was a weapon in that regard, a mindless machine who didn’t have the luxury to think for himself.

Looking down at Anja in his arms, Charon knew he’d have to change. For her sake, he had to try and be better than that. More than a mindless weapon. Find a way to make the relationship with his soulmate work in a way that didn’t conflict with his contract.

**…**

 

When Anja awoke, she was lying on her side in a stable position, on a bed inside a large room. She saw several more beds and guessed it had to be the slavers’ barracks. Caron was sitting on a chair next to the bed, arms crossed over his chest and his head dipped low as if he was sleeping. But she already knew that he didn’t sleep. Not ever. A rare trait, even for a ghoul.

She remembered everything. She remembered seeing the large ghoul charge at her while she aimed a gun at Leena. She remembered hearing the gunshot, feeling the searing hotness in her back, and then the exploding pain in her chest when the bullet made its exit. But her chest didn’t hurt anymore, and she propped herself up on an elbow without difficulties.

The ghoul’s head lifted. Hazy eyes moved to look at her. His expression was unreadable.

“Hey,” she said, voice hoarse and thick with uncertainty. She was surprised to find him watching over her, certain that he was angry with her.

The large ghoul took a moment to observe her face, not responding. It made Anja’s skin prickle, wondering that perhaps he was angry after all. His lack of expression set her nerves in disarray, and she lowered her gaze to look elsewhere.

She could hear him shift in his chair, see in her peripheral vision that he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, face turned forward and away from her.

“Did you know?” she asked, plucking at the blanket over her. “Did you know about Eric’s involvement with these slavers?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I have dealt with these people before. I had contacts.”

Lifting her gaze again, she raised an eyebrow at the ghoul. “Contacts? I thought you were a slave?”

Charon folded his hands and rested his forehead on them, closing his eyes hard. “My… former employer. He liked to send me out to do business on his behalf.”

“Why did you kill him?”

Opening his eyes, the ghoul shot her a quick glance. “Who, Eric?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head slightly. “You know why.”

“I need to hear you say it.” She held her breath, watching his profile in the dimmed light. He looked so cold and dislocated, chin set straight, jaws firm, eyes hard. He inhaled slowly, eyes trailing back to meet hers.

“You were seven the first time he hit you. I wasn’t there to watch it happen, but I felt your pain later that day. For five years, I had to stand by and allow it to happen. _Five years_ , Anja. The violence only increased in force and frequency with your age.”

“He was teaching me to fight. To survive.”

The ghoul scoffed and narrowed his eyes, although he tilted his head in a nod. “You learned something alright. Eric was an angry, broken man, and he took it out on you. I caught word of his debt to the slavers, and I took care of him before he decided to use you as currency.”

Lying back down, Anja looked up at the battered concrete roof, feeling anger and disappointment roll around inside her. This ghoul had killed Eric, the man who had raised her. How was she supposed to deal with that? Even if she had managed pretty well on her own, she had been alone. She had been 12 years old, and all by herself.

However, the self-pity she was feeling was nothing compared to the self-resentment that mixed itself into the feelings. Because even if she’d been all alone, and no matter how angry she was because of that, she resented herself for even resenting Charon in the first place. She understood he had done his best in a very difficult situation. He had helped her more times than she was even aware of, and she lashed out on him when she learned he had prevented a horrible thing happen to her.

Anja was so ashamed, so disappointed in herself for reacting the way she had. Was she that much of a horrible person, she wondered? Was she really such terrible person that she was unable to feel appreciation when someone saved her life? She’d been alone, that was true. But she had also survived. She had bounced back, over and over.

And she hadn’t been entirely alone, Anja reasoned, glancing sideways at the ghoul sitting next to her bed. Charon had been there, watching and making sure she kept her head leveled.

“Where’s Leena?” Anja eventually asked, mentally hating herself and her own cowardice. She’d used his obligation to his contract against him, and she had been entirely selfish about it. She should apologize to him, say the words she knew was the only right thing to say.

“Resting.”

His clipped response had her chest tighten, the humiliation glowing stronger inside her. “Is she…?”

“She’s unharmed.”

“That’s good,” she sighed in relief. “What happened? Was it one of the slavers?”

“One of the escaped slaves saw you point a gun at their savior and shot you.” His voice was a little hard. “Don’t do that again. _Ever_.”

Anja took a deep breath, exhaling with another sigh. “I won’t.”

Silence settled between them when Charon turned back to look straight ahead. An uncomfortable and thick silence that somehow felt loud with unspoken words. Anja was still looking up at the ceiling, still mentally hating herself. Charon just sat there, unmoving and quiet.

She wondered if he knew how she felt. If he was poking through her head again, without her knowledge. If he did, he didn’t show it to her. Nothing about his demeanor revealed that he knew how utterly worthless and ashamed she felt. Or perhaps he knew and didn’t bother to correct it. What was worse, he might even agree.

At that moment, Anja wished more than anything that she had the ability to reach through their bond and do a little poking of her own. She needed to know if he resented her now, if he was angry. Although it wouldn’t have helped her even if she knew. If anything, feeling his resentment would only make her feel worse about herself.

The ghoul turned slowly on the chair to face her fully. His hazy eyes shifted to hers again, holding her gaze for several seconds. Anja’s heartbeats picked up a little, fighting the instinct to shy away from his intimidatingly large frame. But he didn’t do anything more than just look at her. He didn’t touch her or crowd her, and he didn’t look angry.

“What do you want?” he suddenly asked.

Anja blinked several times in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Charon tilted his head slightly forwards, narrowing his eyes at her. “You came to find me, and now you have. You know who I am and what I have done. I’m someone you fear. I’m a ghoul, a creature you loathe. So, what do you want?”

Anja sat up on the bed and scooted up towards the head end, resting her back against the wall and folding her knees up to hold around them. Meeting his unflinching gaze, she shrugged. “I wanted to know more about you. You said so yourself; you’ve known me my entire life. I wanted to know you.”

“And now?” he probed. If he was feeling impatient by her insufficient answer, he didn’t show it. “Now that you know who I am, _what_ I am, and what I have done. What do you want now?”

“I..” She bit her lip, shrugging again and looking at her hands around her knees. “I don’t know. We’re soulmates. What does soulmates do, once they find each other?”

“They mate.”

Anja lost her breath, feeling red and hot, and pale and cold at the same time. Involuntarily, she stared at him. At his ghoul features, scarred and uneven, with no nose and thin lips, ears mostly burned away. Charon’s eyes were pointed and dead serious. He wasn’t joking or trying to unsettle her. His response had been clipped and informative.

“You mean they fuck?” she blurted, allowing her gaze to travel over his large form. Could he even…? Did he even _have_ …? She swallowed, suddenly feeling that her mouth was dry. “But you’re a ghoul.”

Charon shook his head slowly. “Mating is about more than copulation. It’s about the bond, about partnership, security, and lifelong commitment to each other. Is that what you want from me?”

 _Copulation_ , he said. Anja internally reeled. Honestly, she hadn’t given ghouls’ genitals much, if any, thought at all. And now Charon sat there and made her wonder, and it made her blush of embarrassment. It didn’t matter what fancy words he used for it. It was still fucking.

Trying to hide how awkward she felt, Anja narrowed her eyes at him. “How do you know what soulmates and mating is about?”

Charon didn’t hesitate to answer. His voice was calm and slow. “You’re not my first soulmate.”

“Really?” she gaped.

“A long time ago. Long before,” he paused and gestured to himself, “this. She died.”

“How did she die?”

“Don’t know. It was before I became this. Before the contract. I only remember her death.” His eyes were still holding onto her attention, his voice still calm, but now had a certain strain in it when he continued. “I’m old Anja. I know what soulmates and mating is about. And fucking is not all of it. I’ll ask again; what do you want from me?”

The question was odd, but legitimate. A good question, in fact. Using her hand to pry her unruly hair away from her face, she sighed.

Anja had read many pre-war books and magazines in her life. It was one of those guilty little pleasures she had. She had devoured books about romance and love in her younger days. She had allowed herself to dream about someone strong, and kind, and gentle. Someone with integrity and decisiveness. Someone who could make her feel like she mattered, that she had value just for being who she was. Someone _not_ like Charon.

He was a slave whose only concern was the orders given to him. Trained to fight and kill anyone who threatened his employer. He was a _ghoul_. He was nothing even remotely close to what she had carefully imagined, when she learned that the voice in her head was her soulmate. He was noting close to what she had dreamt of, every now and then when she indulged in girlish fantasies about a man.

Although he did make a compelling argument about partnership, security and commitment. But even if he used those words, because he knew that’s what soulmates were supposed to be, was he able to provide those things? Would his contract allow it? Would his employer, Leena or someone else, allow it?

And if he was able to provide it, did she even want him to?

“You have doubts,” the ghoul grumbled, jerking Aja back to reality.

Before Anja could think of a response, he leaned forward, reaching his hand out for hers. She watched it with suspicion, hesitating several heartbeats. When he didn’t withdraw, she relented and extended her arm, seeing that her own hand was shaking. Charon reached further and grabbed it before she had time to reconsider, making her heart skip a beat in an unwelcome jump. His hand was warm and firm when he snaked his fingers around her lower arm, brushing up to her elbow. His other hand joined, using his palm to stroke the inside of her arm a couple of times, smoothing over long-ago healed track marks.

Reflexively, Anja’s own fingers moved, gently grabbing hold of the underside of his wrist. Her hand was small, her fingers covering just around half of his size. Again, her mind pursued an unwelcome line of questions, and again it made her feel hot and cold at the same time. Her stomach flipped, as if she was falling, shocked to find herself in a small and early stage of arousal.

Knowing that the ghoul was probably still poking into her head, she blinked and stared at him.

Charon shook his head slightly. “That’s not happening.”

Anja gently attempted to withdraw from the hold, but he didn’t let go. He held resolutely, but not painfully. She stopped trying and relaxed again, knowing there was no use in it. He’d know how she felt even if he wasn’t touching her, so there was no point of trying to be bashful about it. “Then why this?” she gestured down to their hands.

“You’re my soulmate - we share a bond,” he responded, stroking her arm a few more times. “Touching, like this… Should be comfort.”

Anja’s heart raced in her chest, and she saw how Charon’s stroking hand paused on top of her pulse, laying still there. He was putting just a little pressure behind his fingers, and she knew he was feeling it. Swallowing hard, she lifted her eyes to his. A small frown caressed his forehead. Although he didn’t have eyebrows, it was a very clear expression.

“But it’s not having that effect on you,” he said slowly, and released her arm from his hands.

Anja shuddered a little, suddenly feeling cold. A chuckle escaped her in the middle of an exhale. “You’re not making this easy for me, you know.”

“I can’t change what I am.” He looked down at his own, scarred hands, clenching them slightly. “You need to figure out what you want. And while you do, I will try harder to be better. There’s only one thing I need from you in return.”

“Okay.” She swallowed. “What’s that?”

“Don’t threaten my employer. Ever again.” His eyes moved to look at her, serious and worried and slightly strict.

Anja nodded, meeting his gaze with her own, sincere apology. “I promise I won’t. And I’m sorry I did.”

Charon gave her a slow nod, and even a small tilt of his lips. Anja felt the tension drain out of her. He didn’t specify what he meant about trying to be better, but it didn’t matter. Anja knew she could do better as well, and she realized that she didn’t want to disappoint him. He needed to trust her, she understood. He needed to know that she wouldn’t pull stunts like this again. And besides, it wasn’t fair to Leena. The Vault girl might be Charon’s employer, but she wasn’t some target Anja could aim at every time she was angry.

Settling to lie in a semi-sitting position, Anja relaxed into the bed. Charon didn’t say anything more, and neither did she.

**…**

 

When the three of them left Paradise Falls early in the morning, Anja’s eyes scanned the evidence of their attack. Many dead slavers littered the area, all of them with various types of bullet wounds in their bodies.

Midst among them laid another, male body. He was wearing the ruffled and worn clothes of a wastelander, cotton pants and a shirt. She saw that his position could match the angle she’d been shot from. His head was missing, and his chest was littered with small bullets, no doubt from a shotgun. Not far away from him laid a hunting rifle.

Shuddering slightly, Anja moved her eyes away from the dead slave, knowing why he was dead and knowing who had killed him.

**…**

 

The three of them had traveled for almost two days, following the Potomac river southeast towards Megaton. Leena had said she wanted to take a break for a couple of days in the city before they ventured into the DC ruins.

But Charon didn’t want to go to Megaton. His soulmate was debating to leave them again. He knew it deep in his bones. He saw it in the way she hovered around Leena every time the Vault girl checked the map on her pip-boy. He saw it in the way she was checking their surroundings while they traveled, as if she was looking for a way out. An escape. He saw how she tensed around him.

She didn’t talk much with him during their travel, but she didn’t exactly make a point of avoiding him either. She was just there, saying very little, doing what needed to be done when it needed to be done. She wordlessly rotated with him about taking the lead or the rear guard, not once questioning it when he gave her the order. She joined their fight against a vicious yao guai, she held her own against raiders, she killed a rad scorpion stalking them from behind before Leena and Charon even realized it was there. In almost every way, Anja was the perfect companion.

She was a skilled scavenger and helped find supplies. She helped the Vault girl keep her guns and armor in good condition. Her small hands were meticulous and trained when she took not just her own, but also Leena’s, weapon apart at night, cleaning them and finding new and lesser damaged parts in the small pile of weapon parts they had gathered for that purpose.

Anja also chatted with Leena whenever the Vault girl initiated a conversation. She was polite when she listened, kind but reserved she responded. It didn’t seem like Leena noticed how reserved Anja was, because the Vault girl had begun falling behind or rushing ahead to Anja’s position, eagerly seeking out the companionship of another female. Charon wasn’t surprised at that. Leena was lonely, and he wasn’t the best of company.

But despite how well she was working with them, her behavior still set his edginess on fire. Because he knew, when he reached into their bond, that she was planning to leave again.

He wanted to ask why. Wanted to stop her, pull her somewhere private and demand answers. Recent events had led him to believe she would stay with them from now on. She’d insisted on joining them to Paradise Falls, because she was worried about him. Worried that his contract would fall into the wrong hands. She had cast aside concern for her own and his employer’s safety, to rush to his aid and fight off a man double her size. All of this had culminated in a certainty within him that she had decided to stay.

But when Leena had said they’d take a break in Megaton, he’d felt through their bond how Anja was starting to balk. It was as if he heard her, as if the roles were reversed and he heard her in his head, like an echo. _No_ , her emotions said. _I’m not coming with you_. He could sense how she was starting to plan her leave, how a rushed and urgent feeling was forming inside her. _I’m leaving_ , her echo told him. And now as they came closer, he could feel how she was internally pacing and debating with herself.

Charon found himself confused. Was this what she wanted? To leave? Why had he gotten the impression she wanted to be here with him, despite her doubts regarding everything he was. How was he supposed to be better, if she wasn’t there to motivate him into trying? The wasteland and all its people could burn for all he cared. But Anja? She made him want to be better, because she deserved someone better.

Anja was taking the lead this afternoon as they came closer to Megaton. She was steadily and reliably keeping them out of as much harm as she could. She had good eyes, Charon knew that. She’d spot trouble from a long distance, and she’d motion for the two behind her to stay low and quiet.

Her small and lean figure was practically glowing with strength and agility, a controlled kind of strength that told him just how tense she was. She was talking with Leena again, and he overheard their conversation. They were talking about Megaton. Or, to be more accurate, Leena was doing most of the talking.

“…So, I diffused the bomb, you know. Mr. Burke wasn’t all too happy about that, but screw him, right? He wanted to kill all those people just for the amusement of his employer? That’s just sick.”

“Yeah…” Anja responded slowly, absentmindedly. “Sick.”

“Lucas Simms was grateful though. You know him? He’s the Sheriff.”

“I know him,” his soulmate confirmed. Charon knew the Sheriff had kept an eye on Anja when she was still a kid and inclined to be attracted to trouble.

“He even gave me the deed to a decent house.” Leena straightened her back proudly.

“Really? I didn’t know you owned a house there.” Anja glanced at Leena in surprise.

“Yeah,” his employer smiled. “I thought I’d take you there once we get to Megaton. It should be big enough to fit all three of us.”

“Right. Sure.” Anja moved her gaze forward again, and Charon caught a glimpse of her tense jaw.

“I should have enough caps for all of us to get a fresh meal as well.”

“Uh-huh?”

Leena chuckled. “I mean, those pre-war meals aren’t all bad. But I’d like to treat us all to something good, you know. We need that after Paradise Falls.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, and maybe we’ll get to do some shopping as well. I bet Moira has some interesting things in stock.”

“Probably,” his soulmate responded, scanning their environment a little too intensely.

Sighing inwardly, Charon rubbed at his face. Anja wasn’t planning to stay with them in Megaton. Possibly not go there at all, but most likely bail on them after she’d resupplied her inventory. It came through the bond loud and clear when he reached for her mind.

It was still early in the afternoon, and they still had a few more hours of travel before they reached Megaton. Dusk was just a few hours away as well.

Calling forward, he ordered the women to a halt. Leena and Anja both stopped and turned to face him. He’d called loudly, so they knew he wasn’t warning them of incoming danger.

“What’s up?” Leena queried.

“We should make camp.”

“Here?” his employer frowned, looking at the time on her pip-boy. “We’re just a few hours away from Megaton, and I was really looking forward to a real bed to sleep in.”

Anja stood further off in silence, eyes casually trailing their surroundings for danger.

Charon choked down his frustration. “We should camp here. _Now_ ,” he insisted.

“Why?” Leena gave him a skeptical look. She’d always trusted his leadership before, so this was a new one. When Charon didn’t answer, but instead just stood there and coldly met her gaze, her delicate forehead dipped into a deeper frown. “Why should we make camp here and not press forward to Megaton, Charon?” Her voice was firmer. Ordering him to answer.

He sighed inwardly again, but his eyes were hard and unflinching. “Because Megaton means Anja is leaving us again.”

“What?” both women asked in unison, looking at him. And then Leena turned to look at Anja.

“Is this true?”

“ _What_?” Anja repeated, looking confused. “I mean, no? Dammit!” Her green eyes shifted from Leena to focus on him. “Charon? What are you talking about?” Her stance was moving, weight shifting from one leg to the other, hands grasping her assault rifle with both hands, holding it at stiffly across her abdomen, shoulders rolling in slight discomfort.

“You don’t think I know?” He gave her a pointed look, expressively looking her over from head to toe. “You think I can’t tell just by looking at you? You think I can’t tell how you want to be somewhere else?” He tapped his temple gently, looking right into her eyes.

Anja just stood there, gaping at him, looking stunned.

“Oh man,” Leena complained, groaning loudly. “It’s a bit early for marital disputes, don’t you think? Come on, Charon. I really want to sleep in a bed tonight. We’re going to Megaton, and that’s final.” She turned on her heel and walked away, passing by Anja who was standing still and waiting. Charon narrowed his eyes at her, seeing that she was waiting for him. To take the lead, perhaps? So that she could run off when he and his employer had their backs turned?

 _No_ , he growled inwardly. Out loud, he grumbled; “Up front Anja.” He lifted his shotgun into both hands, gesturing her to start walking.

She gave him a hard look, and then turned around, walking quickly to catch up with Leena.

There was no way he was going to let her just walk away without an explanation. No way in hell.

**…**

They reached Megaton just after sunset. The large mass of scrapped metal growing larger in the setting sun, and eventually just looking like a hulking shadow of metallic ruin. Light escaped the ruin, seeping through the metal walls and up towards the sky, illuminating the thin layer of radiated skies above.

The robot greeter stood at the entrance, stuttering a clumsy welcome at their darkened forms when they approached. Anja warned caution when they approached. It’s friend or foe programming was faulty, she explained. She had seen it greet a fire ant once.

He’d kept a hard eye on his soulmate these last few hours, also allowing it to seep into their bond, letting her know that _he was watching her_. He didn’t even care that it most likely felt like a threat. Didn’t care that anger rolled in return.

He was going to talk to her about this. But he wanted to do so in private.

A male voice called down at them from atop the gates. Lifting his eyes, Charon caught the glinting reflection of a sniper’s scope. “Identify yourself!” the man called loudly.

Anja raised her hands, calling their names up at the man.

The man was silent a few seconds, and then the reflection of the scope was removed. “Welcome back Anja. I don’t recognize your companions’ names, but if they’re with you they must be good people.”

He heard his soulmate mutter something under her breath while the door screeched and creaked open. Dust flew around the gates, and then eventually the doors settled with loud and echoing bangs.

Leena skipped inside, and Charon was about to follow, when he saw Anja fall behind. He stopped, looking between Leena’s disappearing form, and his soulmate.

“Don’t do this,” he warned and took a step back towards her.

Anja was shifting her weight between her feet uneasily. Her eyes were big. “I don’t want to be here.”

“You gotta make up your minds people,” the male atop the walls called at them. “Can’t keep this gate open all night!”

His soulmate glanced up at the man, taking a small step backwards and away from the gate. Tensing, he felt his insides chill when he observed how she was tensing up as well, getting ready to run. “Don’t,” he warned again.

“Closing in five…. Four….” The man called.

Charon bolted forward, startling Anja into a yelp. He grabbed her and lifted her easily off the ground, ignoring her angry kicking and yelling. Throwing her over his shoulder and holding onto her kicking feet, she walked quickly back to the gates, giving the man on top of it a confirming wave.

The gates rumbled and began closing when he stepped through them.

“Let go of me!” his soulmate yelled, angrily hitting his back with her fists. Ignoring her, he spotted Leena in a conversation with the Sheriff, and walked over to them.

Leena gaped and chuckled when she saw him approach. “Oh my, she doesn’t sound very happy, Charon.”

“I’m not!” Anja called behind his back. “Tell him to put me down!”

“Hey,” Lucas Simms said, frowning. “I know that voice. Anja, is that you?”

“This is kidnapping!” she shrieked, and then _omphed_ when Charon gave her a nudge with his shoulder to shift her a little back in place. Truth be told, he was enjoying this far more than he should.

“Well, technically, you’re not a kid,” the Sheriff responded, obviously amused but also looking a bit concerned. People throwing women over their shoulders against their will rarely preceded laughable situations. “Mind letting her go, friend? I can’t be seen condoning this kind of behavior. Might give people ideas, you know.”

“Yes, I do mind,” Charon growled in response, looking the Sheriff dead in the eyes, grip tightening possessively around her legs.

The Sheriff tensed, frown deepening.

“Whoa,” Leena interjected. “Put her down, Charon.”

Sighing, Charon relaxed his hold on Anja and pulled her legs down, allowing her to slide down the length of his front until her feet met the ground. He held an arm around her waist the entire time. Put her down, his employer said. Not, let her go. Important difference.

Once Anja’s feet met the ground, her hair was all around her face, and she glared up at him with an angry huff, green eyes dark and fuming. He tightened his arm around her waist when she tried to push off him.

“Right then,” Lucas Simms said, clearing his throat and eyeing the way the large ghoul was still physically restraining Anja. But as long as she wasn’t screaming, he’d just mind his own business. Tipping his hat at the three of them, he quickly backed away. “Stay out of trouble folks.”

“Always do,” Leena waved after him, smiling innocently. When the Sheriff disappeared towards the center of town, his employer turned towards him, gesturing wildly at both him and his soulmate, her still struggling to get out of his hold. “What the hell, Charon? What’s this about?”

“Tell him to let go of me!” Anja panted, huffing in anger as she made another attempt at shoving herself out of his hold.

“She’ll run,” Charon grumbled, looking at Leena. “She was about to run when you turned your back and entered through the gates.”

Leena’s eyebrows rose, and she walked over to Charon’s side, looking at Anja’s face against his chest. “Why Anja? What’s wrong with this place?”

“It’s not this-” Charon began, answering in Anja’s place, but then he cut himself short. His gaze slowly lowered to the woman pressed tightly against him. “ _This place_ ,” he finished with a sudden rush of insight, frowning. His soulmate had stopped fighting, panting from exhaustion. She was taking deep and controlled breaths, shaking a little.

“You’re still afraid of this place,” he said, voice hushed while he reached into their bond to gauge the depths of her fear. Relaxing his hold, he moved his hand up her back, feeling her hammering heartbeats through her backside.

“Mind telling me what this is about?” his employer probed, still looking from him and down at Anja, frowning.

Charon relaxed further, releasing his hold enough that Anja could step out of it if she wanted. But she didn’t step away immediately. Taking a few more calming breaths, she finally exhaled with a sigh.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, turning her head to look at Leena. “There was an incident the last time I was here, but it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Leena asked insistently, dark eyes shining with worry. “Maybe I can help.”

“No, Leena. Thanks, but I’ll be fine.” With a quick glance up at him, she stepped away from his hold.

“Alright,” Leena said, giving Anja a small nod. “If you change your mind, you can talk to me, you know. You guys ready to get out of here now? I have a house that needs inspection.”

Anja gave the Vault girl an affirmative nod, and they both followed Leena as she turned to lead them there.

Charon watched Anja while he followed behind her, sending comfort and reassurance through to her. He was mentally beating himself for not realizing sooner. Her increased agitation and decision to run wasn’t because she was running from _them_ , him and his employer. And he had been so preoccupied interpreting her signals wrong that he hadn’t bothered to simply ask her about it. Just talked to her and learned why she was feeling tense and jumpy. It was because she didn’t want to go back to Megaton. Because this place still had her scared. Because she still didn’t know who that man was.

The mere idea that his soulmate was still carrying that experience around inside her like a hot and glowing ball made his chest tighten. She should be furious at that unknown man, not cowering in fear. Nothing good would come from avoiding this place.

If Charon had learned anything from all his years alive, it was that avoidance would only serve to strengthen the fear. And fear would only make a person weaker. And he didn’t like it when his soulmate was weak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story. That robot greeter outside Megaton actually did welcome a fire ant in one of my playthroughs.  
> I'll try to update again soon. Thank you for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

**Guilty**

 

They inspected Leena’s house together, taking a quick tour, and then activating the robotic housekeeper Wadsworth. After greeting them and recognizing Leena as the madam of the house, the Mr. Handy robot took one look around, and then began muttering and fretting about the shape of the house and hurried to sweep the floors.

Leena took the bedroom upstairs to the right, proclaiming she was going to bed. Before she closed the door, she ordered her two companions to work out whatever issues they had. She was tired and just wanted to change into something soft and then sleep.

Anja and Charon stood in the living room, watching the robot swish around in the kitchen area, cleaning the shelves of dust and dirt. They didn’t look at each other, the silence between them just as heavy and awkward as the last time they had been alone together.

Although she could still feel the remnants of her soulmate’s calm reassurance, Anja was still upset about the way he’d handled her. He had said, back in Paradise Falls, that he wouldn’t manhandle her in any way if he could avoid it. But wasn’t that exactly what he’d done now? Manhandled her against her will, working on his own and not under the influence of a command?

The way he’d done it, so effortlessly and without batting an eye wasn’t just a little bit infuriating. He was strong, she already knew that. Stronger than most ghouls and humans she had ever met. After he’d put her down, his arm around her waist had felt like an inescapable iron bar. He’d held her with enough force to keep her still, but not enough to hurt.

And, _dammit_ , why did that make her feel so breathless and curious?

Huffing, Anja turned towards the exit door. “I need a drink.”

She hadn’t really expected him to just stand by and watch her walk out the door. Not after what he’d just done to make sure she stayed with them. Nonetheless, her surprise was evident when he sidestepped and blocked her path. She stopped, staying out of his reach, looking up at his face.

“You sure that’s all?” he asked, giving her a pointed look. “You’re not planning to leave the city?”

Crossing her arms, she lifted her chin defiantly. “I’m sure.”

Charon didn’t move. He kept holding his gaze on her, lowering his head just a little. By the way his hazy gray eyes were looking between hers, she almost got the impression he was debating with himself. “You’re still scared of this place.” he eventually said.

“I’m not scared. I wasn’t ready to be here yet, but now that I am, I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t mean that,” he responded slowly, frowning.

Anja glared at him for several seconds, still feeling him through their bond, knowing he was feeling her too. And then she deflated in an exhale, uncrossing her arms. “Alright, fine! I’m scared! I was trying to tell you that, but you didn’t understand. You… You weren’t responding to what I sent your way. I thought you didn’t care. So yes, I’m a little scared. But it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re disappointed.” He took a step closer. “But I do care. More than you know. You’re not protecting yourself by avoiding this. You’re feeding your fear.”

“I know,” she nodded, looking away from him with a shrug. “Which is why I’m going to Moriarty’s. I promise I won’t run.” Circling around him, seeing that he wasn’t stalking after her or trying to block her path, she made another attempt at the door.

Anja had reached the door, hand ready to open it, when he spoke again. “I’ll come with you,” he suggested.

She paused and turned, giving him a skeptical and surprised look. “Can you even do that?” Her eyes trailed to the second floor.

Charon extended his arms to make a slow gesture at their surroundings. “I don’t see any potential threats, do you?”

An involuntary smile crept into her face. “No, I don’t. And yes, you’re welcome to join me.”

Charon unshouldered his shotgun, laying it over a table, and then gave her a nod, following her out the door.

She walked ahead of him, hearing his heavy and long strides behind her, slow to accommodate her pace. Moriarty’s was on the other side of town, and Anja led the way. Their feet clanged on the metal walkways, circling around the city center. They passed by Jericho’s house, following the walkways up and over the roofs of some other houses, passing by the Women’s Restrooms.

 Anja stopped just before going down to the city busses she knew an old couple lived in, glancing at her left, seeing the Common House. A spontaneous shudder raced through her.

“You want to go up there?” Charon asked quietly beside her, following her gaze to the house.

Anja moved her gaze away from the house, swallowing and shaking her head a little. “No.”

“Might help if you do.” His voice was low and considerate, and she glanced at him, seeing that he was looking back at her.

“I don’t want to go there.” She repeated, motioning him to follow her.

Charon didn’t say anything more, and quietly walked behind her again.

Once they reached Moriarty’s Saloon, Anja could feel her shoulders lower a little. She wasn’t about to admit that her eyes had been scanning continuously for a bald head while they walked, and opening the doors to the familiar bar was like finding refuge. She held it open for Charon, seeing the large ghoul dip his head a little so that he wouldn’t knock it into the upper frame when he stepped through.

There were just a few people inside, and everyone’s gaze fell on the large ghoul when he entered. Anja closed the door behind them, walking past him up to the bar. Gob was tending to the bar, his scarred face lighting up a little when he spotted her.

She gave him a nod and sat down on the stool, registering that Charon came up to her right, but settled on leaning on the wall next to her instead of taking a seat. He propped his elbow on the counter, relaxing into a stance that looked both strong and peaceful at the same time.

“Hi Gob,” she greeted, smiling, inhaling the familiar scents of cigarette smoke and strong liquor, feeling her insides growl of a slight hunger at the scent. Damn, she hadn’t had a drink since… Since the last time she’d been in this bar, really.

“Oh man, am I glad to see you,” Gob said, putting a glass and a piece of cloth away. “Moriarty’s been in a particularly foul mood lately. I could use a friendly face.”

Shaking away the remnants of her anxiety, Anja chuckled and extended her arms. “That’s what I’m here for,” she winked.

Gob nodded, eyeing Charon carefully, not daring to look into the larger ghoul’s eyes. “So, need a drink?” he asked, trailing his eyes to look at her instead.

“Oh god, yes!” Anja chuckled. “Whisky, please. Leave the bottle.”

Gob turned and brought out a bottle and two glasses. She hadn’t asked for two, but she guessed he just assumed she was sharing. Shrugging inwardly, she pushed one of the glasses over to Charon, filling it with the golden delight that made her stomach roll in anticipation. She then filled her own glass, seeing in her peripheral vision that one of Charon’s large hands came down and wrapped around the glass, lifting it off the counter.

The radio was on, slow and lazy tunes flowing out of the small speakers, matching the mood in the bar. Anja brought her glass up to her lips, inhaling deeply before she took a small sip. The brown liquor tingled and burned on her tongue, tasting sweet and strong at the same time, making her salivate slightly. She swallowed, feeling it burn all the way down her throat, settling in her stomach like a warm and comfortable ember.

She sighed, and took another, longer sip. “I missed this.”

Charon’s hand came down on the counter again, holding the glass that now had a lower amount of whisky in it. Smiling, Anja turned to look at him.

“I didn’t think you liked drinking?”

 “It’s been a while.”

“Leena said you used to work at that bar where I ran into you. The Ninth Circle in Underworld?”

Charon gave her an affirmative nod, eyes trailing down to the glass. “As a bouncer.”

“I remember,” she narrowed her eyes at him slightly. “You weren’t very kind to that ghoul you know. He broke his wrist when he fell over me.”

“I know.” He lifted the glass and took a long, slow sip.

Anja moved her gaze away, also sipping her glass. She saw Gob watching, leaning closer when their eyes met.

“You went to Underworld?”

“I did. And before you ask; yes, I spoke to Carol. She misses you very much.”

Gob clasped his hands over his mouth, eyes shining with moisture when he swallowed the thick sob in his throat. “Thank you.” He said when he removed his hands again, speaking quietly.

Anja offered a smile, but no words. She didn’t know what to say. Carol had broken down in tears of happiness hearing from Gob, and now he was tearing up as well. It was clear that they had been close once, and it was clear that they were both in pain being apart.

Focusing her attention on her glass, Anja refilled it and took another big mouthful.

**…**

Charon watched Anja from the side while she was drinking, idly chatting with Moriarty when the barkeeper emerged from the backroom. The Irishman’s previously mentioned foul mood brightened significantly when he spotted Anja, and soon enough he was throwing all kinds of compliments and carefully phrased suggestions at her. Charon had seen him do this before, but his soulmate was parrying them expertly with quipped responses of her own, and she was doing a fantastic job of it as well. Charon hid several small chuckles during their conversation.

They were flirting, he knew that, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. She was calm and feeling safe. The witty remarks flew back and forth over the counter, quick like gunfire, sharp lite razors. Anja’s shoulders were relaxed, she was casually gesturing with her hands while she talked, smiling easily and unrestrained. Her laughter was melodic and sincere.

Charon just watched, sipping his own glass, seeing that she refilled it without a second thought while she spoke with the barkeeper.

People came and went through the night. Moriarty too, whenever he had to take care of something somewhere else in the bar. But he always returned to Anja, continuing their verbal battle with wicked grins. Charon suspected the man was verbally defeated a long time ago, and that ‘the businesses’ was just an excuse to take a break while he thought of something new to say.

And even though Anja was speaking with Moriarty, her body had begun leaning towards Charon. It took a while before he noticed, but when more people came up to the bar, Anja moved her stool closer to him, and she didn’t pull it back when the people left again to sit elsewhere.

She was leaning one of her elbows on the counter, her back slightly against him, resting just a little on his chest. Charon stayed still, holding his hand around his glass, arm laying next to hers on the counter. Although his nose was mostly gone, he could still smell her, slightly sweet and slightly sharp. She smelled of the outdoors - a fresh smell of dirt.

When she laughed, she tilted her head back, leaning back against his chest. He could feel her shoulders shiver from the laugh. Experimentally, he raised his free hand and put it on her upper arm, just holding it there, very carefully keeping her close. She didn’t freeze or pull away.

He eyed the bottle, but it wasn’t empty yet. Anja was drinking, but she wasn’t being careless about it. Charon had his fair share as well, but his metabolism wouldn’t absorb alcohol in the same way as hers. It would take a lot more to make him drunk.

No one in the bar spoke to him, but everyone was looking at him now and then. He spotted the bar’s whore stare at him from the other side of the room, as well as the other ghoul. The patrons eyed him with either fear, wariness, of flat out disgust, walking in circles around him. But no one dared talking to him. That suited him perfectly well.

Moriarty was probably the only one who didn’t shy when he looked at the ghoul. His eyes traveled to Charon’s frame on several occasions, also seeing the way Anja was leaning into him, and seeing how Charon had one of his hands on her upper arm. But the Irishman didn’t comment it, he just nodded to himself, as if responding to a question inside his head.

But then, all a sudden, the mood in the bar shifted. Charon felt like he was watching something he’d seen before, like a déjà vu.

Moriarty was leaning both hands on the bar, talking with Anja, responding to something she’d said. Then the barkeeper’s gaze lifted to look over her head, and his smile evaporated. Anja turned on the stool to look, and Charon also turned his head to look towards the door.

He could feel his soulmate tense up under his hand, feel the jolt of fear coming from the bond. A cold sensation settled in his gut, feeling it slowly uncurl and move up his chest, turning into a feral and vibrating rumble.

A man wearing a leather armor stepped through the door. He had a closely trimmed goatee, eyebrows drawn down into a frown, brown eyes scanning the bar and its people. And he was bald. And he was wearing an eye-patch.

Anja quickly turned away from the man, looking straight ahead. Charon caught the name _Jericho_ cross her lips, hushed and slightly breathless. But Charon didn’t look away, like his soulmate did. He kept his gaze leveled on the man as he approached the bar, the man eyeing him in return. He ordered a drink from Moriarty, and the Irishman wordlessly complied, taking his payment up front.

Charon watched him closely, knowing he’d seen this man before through Anja’s eyes. He’d seen how Anja had beaten him once, when the man had been shitfaced drunk and physically intrusive. He’d seen and heard how the man had shouted vulgar suggestions at Anja, every time she came to town. She had never feared him before. But now she did.

He was rather small, aged above 60 somewhere, physique revealing that his muscles were still strong. He carried himself with self-importance, an assault rifle strapped to his back. His demeanor revealed that he thought himself a real badass.

Charon moved his eyes down to his soulmate. She had fallen silent, emptying her glass in a large mouthful. He gripped her arm a little firmer, reaching into their bond, feeling her shock and anger.

 _Good_ , he thought. Anger was good. He discreetly reinforced that anger, sensing how it grew inside her.

Leaning forward, he spoke into her ear. “You want to deal with this?”

She nodded, reaching down to pull a bag of caps out of her pocket. Laying the caps on the table, she rose from the stool. Charon remained where he stood, keeping his distance. She walked right up to the man. Her voice was loud and strong when she spoke, making sure everyone in the bar heard her.

“Lovely eye-path.” When the man turned his head to look at her, she punched him. Hard. An expertly aimed punch that crunched the man’s nose.

Jericho flew backwards off his stool, cursing loudly. “The fuck is the matter with you, you crazy bitch!”

Anja closed in on him, readying herself for another punch. People began protesting, yelling for Moriarty to interfere. But the barkeeper just stood there, looking between Anja and Jericho with a small frown. She punched Jericho again, not giving him time to collect himself. The man stumbled backwards with more curses.

“You touch me again, Jericho. I’ll cut your fucking dick off,” she said slowly, voice edged, watching with steel in her eyes as the man regained his balance. Charon could feel how she he was fuming with anger inwardly, but she was collected and perfectly calm on the outside. “And then I’ll shove it up your ass, to see how you like it,” she finished.

Charon straightened from the bar when Anja turned on her heel, making a beeline for the door. An all to quick and sloppy retreat. Giving the barkeeper a short nod in goodbye, he followed after her outside.

She hadn’t gone far. Waiting for him just outside, she was looking out over the city, shaking a little. Charon came to stand next to her. “Feel better?”

Anja chuckled and gave him a sideways glance. “Yes, actually. That felt good.” She sounded like she was out of breath.

He nodded, walking at ease beside her slightly hurried strides when she began marching back the way they had come from. “Not scared anymore?”

“No. Not when I know who it was. That fucking snake.”

“You think he’ll stay away now?”

Anja’s steps slowed a little, and she frowned. “Probably not. It’s not the first time he’s tried something like that. Guy used to be a raider, you know. Definitely not the first time, and I’m pretty damn sure it won’t be his last.”

Charon nodded again, not saying anything, but walking beside her all the way back to his employer’s house. She was still nurturing anger, but now also a different kind of fear. The fear of retaliation. If it was true that this man was as bad as she said, retaliation was very possible.

Once back at the house, Anja turned to him, wearing a small smile across her lips. “Thanks Charon. For staying with me.”

Charon dipped his head a little. “I am glad you enjoyed yourself.”

He offered a respectful nod to her when she chuckled and turned around, slowly walking up the steps to the spare bedroom, silently closing the door.

His gaze wandered to the house’s interior, seeing that the robot housekeeper had been very busy in their absence. The robot had even laid out a blanket and a pillow for him on the couch. It was currently swooshing around on the second floor, still muttering about all the dust and the junk lying around.

With nothing to do, Charon laid down on the couch, hearing the springs in the old furniture creak under his weight. This was unusual. Normally, he’d be on guard, patrolling, standing watch. But there was no need for that in this place, and it was an unusual feeling.

He grimaced, feeling how his body refused to relax even though he willed it to try. The couch was too short for him anyways, too small to accommodate his wide shoulders. It was uncomfortable, and he felt out of place and overgrown. He liked the outdoors better.

Sitting up again, he sighed and fetched his shotgun and a piece of cloth, disassembling it with trained hands. Watching through the bond for Anja to fall asleep, he settled on waiting.

**…**

Anja was sitting on the couch in her room, comfortably resting into a corner with her legs curled up, reading one of the pre-war books she had found in there. It was in the middle of the day, and she’d eaten breakfast with Leena and Charon a few hours ago, and then she had retreated to this room for some peace and quiet.

She liked the silence in this place. Liked the calm and the privacy. But she liked it because she could still hear Leena and Charon outside her door. Could hear Leena rummage around in the house, doing whatever it was she was doing. Refurnishing, by the sound of it.

It was a comforting type of quiet. Staying in her room, _choosing_ to be alone, but knowing that she could also choose not to be.

She would have liked to stay for a few more days, but Leena said she wanted to get to Rivet City, so they were moving on the next day. Anja wasn’t sure she wanted to go, still not convinced that Leena’s good fight was her cup of tea.

But Charon had made it perfectly clear that he wanted her to come with them. If practically kidnapping her and carrying her into town wasn’t a good enough evidence, then his feelings were. Because he was picking up on her doubts, and he didn’t like it one bit.

The large ghoul had even taken to hang around outside her door, as if he thought she’d try to sneak out when they weren’t looking. Somehow though, it didn’t unsettle her half as much as it probably should.

Her ears picked up voices outside her door, coming from downstairs. Leena was talking with a man, and the man sounded muffled, but familiar to Anja’s ears. Then slow and heavy steps ascended the stairs, and Anja put the book away.

One loud and firm knock on her door made her rise from the couch, crossing the floor and opening the door. Charon stood on the other side, looking down at her with his face devoid of emotions.

“The Sheriff wants to see you,” he stated roughly, eyes drifting down what he could see of her frame towards her bare feet on the floor.

“What? Why?”

“Don’t know. Come downstairs.” He moved to the side, motioning her to follow.

“Give me a sec,” she nodded, and then closed the door. Self-conscious about her bare feet, she quickly pulled her worn army boots on, and then exited her room. The ghoul took note of her footwear, but said nothing, and walked behind her down the stairs.

Lucas Simms stood in the living room along with Leena, waiting for her. The dark man’s face was set in a serious grimace, and Leena was chewing on the nail on one of her thumbs, forehead dipped in worry.

“Miss Anja,” Lucas said, greeting her. “Got questions for you. Would you like to come with me, so we can talk in private?”

Her head filled with a thrumming caution coming from Charon, and she turned to glance at him behind her. His face remained stoic and impassive. Turning back to the Sheriff, she frowned.

“Why? What’s this about?”

The Sheriff grimaced and shifted his weight, looking as if he didn’t like what he was about to say. “It has come to my attention that you might’ve had an unfortunate experience with one of our residents here.”

“You mean Jericho, when he tried to rape me?” Anja stated, looking at the Sheriff steadily, ignoring Leena’s loud gasp.

The Sheriff dipped his head in a nod. “Yeah, that. And as it also happens, you were seen attacking him last night at Moriarty’s.”

“So?” she crossed her arms, lifting an eyebrow at him.

“You sure you want to do this, here, in front of your friends?” the Sheriff asked carefully, steadily meeting her gaze with his own.

She shrugged. “I got nothing to hide. Yeah, I punched the bastard right in the face. Twice. Broke his nose in fact.”

“Right,” the Sheriff nodded, bringing up a clipboard to read a couple of lines, crossing out something with a pencil. “Broke his nose, ok. Good. And after that?”

She blinked, suddenly feeling dread at where this was going. “After that? I walked back here with Charon. And I went straight to bed.”

“Can your… friend here confirm that?” the Sheriff asked, looking at Anja.

She scowled at him, narrowing her eyes. “Ask him.”

“Right. Of course.” Shifting his gaze to the large ghoul behind Anja, he lifted his clipboard again. “Can you confirm that Anja went straight for bed once you got back from the bar?”

“Yes. I was awake the whole night. She didn’t leave her room until this morning just after sunrise,” the ghoul answered, his rough voice even and calm.

The Sheriff scribbled on the clipboard. He had a frown on his forehead, and just now did Anja notice that his hat was the same type of hat that Charon used. Only Charon’s was worn and looked a lot more weathered.

“Why these questions, Lucas?” Anja eventually asked, when the Sheriff had lowered his clipboard again.

He looked at her steadily. “Does your room have a window? So that it would be possible for you to leave the house without your friend noticing?”

“What? No!” The dreadful feeling was spreading, crawling up her spine and into her scalp. “Tell me what this is about Lucas.”

The Sheriff sighed, looking tired. “Jericho was found in his home earlier today when he didn’t show up for his guard rotation. You know, he helps protect this town, right? He was found dead, Anja. Neck broken. And the last time anyone saw him, you were seen attacking him.”

The dread settled into a chilled horror, deep inside her. She stared at the Sheriff for several long seconds, hearing that Leena asked what injuries Jericho had received. The Sheriff answered that there was nothing aside from the broken nose Anja had just confirmed she’d given him. It didn’t look like the man had fought back, possibly because he hadn’t seen his murderer at all.

Anja heard these things through a haze, as if she wasn’t really there, and this wasn’t happening to her. But then a warm hand hugged her shoulder firmly, and she blinked, seeing that it was one of Charon’s large hands. She swallowed, turning her gaze back at the Sheriff.

“Jericho was a piece of ass, Lucas. A real predator. But I didn’t kill him.”

The Sheriff nodded. “I don’t think you did it, but you know I have to ask these questions. Jericho may have been a foul-mouthed piece of work, but he was valuable to this city. He helped keep us all safe.”

“The guy was an ex-raider!” she said angrily. “He was a goddamn rapist. You call that _foul-mouthed_?”

“Did he rape you?” the Sheriff asked, looking concerned.

Anja crossed her arms, also frowning. “No. He didn’t get the chance to. But he tried. Twice. Just like he tried with Jenny Stahl. Ask her if you don’t believe me.”

A surprised look crossed the Sheriff’s face, and he looked down onto the clipboard, scribbling again. “Alright. I’ll talk to her. And her brothers. But I need to ask that you don’t leave the city until this is resolved, ok?”

“No,” Leena shot into the conversation, shaking her head with worried eyes. “No, not ok. I’m leaving town tomorrow, and Anja is coming with me.”

Anja could feel Charon’s hand on her shoulder tighten the grip.

The Sheriff shook his head at Leena. “I can’t allow that,” he said sternly. “Anja is a suspect. Possibly a key witness.”

“How do you intend to punish the culprit, once you find them?” Charon asked, his voice was rough and edged.

“Depends on the crime, really. Theft? I’d throw the culprit right on his ass out of here. Random murder? I’d spend a bullet. But Jericho wasn’t just some random settler. He was one of our protectors. I think this punishment is going for a town vote.”

The ghoul behind Anja chuckled, a deep and raspy kind of chuckle. “You got to me kidding me. You'll turn them into a bloodthirsty mob.”

The Sheriff shrugged. “If that’s what it takes to make a point.”

“No,” Charon growled, releasing Anja’s shoulder and pushing her aside, closing in on the Sheriff. “That’s raider talk, right there.” He pointed to the Sheriffs chest, steadily crowding the man and backing him into a corner. The Sheriff stared at the hand that pointed at him. “You want to keep law and order, but you question a traumatized woman about the truth behind her words? What kind of Sheriff are you?”

Anja was watching in stunned silence, seeing that Leena looked a bit shocked as well.

The Sheriff’s gaze was still on the ghoul’s hand, still pointing at his chest. The man swallowed audibly. “M-my, that’s some big hands you got there, friend. Strong.”

“Oh yeah?” Charon’s voice was ominously slow. He clenched the hand, slowly, right in front of the man’s face. “Big and strong enough to snap a man’s neck right in half before he can even try to fight back?”

The Sheriff opened and closed his mouth several times, searching for words, looking like a fish caught on land. His dark skin was pale, and Anja could see a rim of sweat break out on his forehead. Anja suspected he would’ve pissed himself too, if Charon hadn’t finally released him from the corner and backed away. He pointed at Anja, and her hands.

“You see that, Sheriff? Those hands are strong, but I doubt she’d be able to break a man’s neck so easily. A strong fighter like Jericho? No way she’d be able to do that and walk away without a scratch.”

The Sheriff frowned, looking at Anja’s hands, and then her face and bare arms, seeing that she didn’t have any marks on her. Slowly, the dark man’s gaze moved over to Charon, narrowing.

“Can anyone confirm that you were here the entire night?”

“I can,” Leena said, slowly and measured. “Charon was here the entire night.”

“How can you be sure?” The Sheriff probed.

“Because he had orders to stay close to Anja. And Charon follows my orders.”

Anja frowned, eyes darting between Leena and Charon. The Sheriff was also frowning, looking between all three of them with apprehension and a slight disgust.

“He’s your slave?”

“Employee,” Leena corrected. “But yes.”

Shaking his head, the Sheriff sighed. “I don’t like this. But I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt. I have other witnesses to talk to anyhow.” And with that, he turned to leave.

“So, Anja can leave with us tomorrow?” Leena asked.

The Sheriff gave the Vault girl a nod. “Yes, she’s free to leave.”

Once he had left and closed the door behind him, all three of them fell into silence, looking at each other. Charon just stood there and looked detached and stoic, like always. Anja was glaring at him and Leena in turns, and Leena was staring wide-eyed at her and Charon.

Unable to contain her irritation, Anja broke the silence. “Did you _order_ him to be with me last night?”

“Of course not!” Leena scoffed, and then she turned her dark-eyed gaze to Charon, looking very anxious. “I’m not going to ask. I don’t want to know.”

Charon gave the women a short and wordless nod.

Anja withdrew from them, walking back up the stairs to her room, feeling her neck prickle of unease and worry. Even though she agreed with Leena about not wanting to know, she knew Charon was capable of such a thing. And for some reason, it made her feel hot and cold again.

**…**

She was in her room again. But this time she wasn’t resting of feeling comfortable. She was hiding, and she’d done that the entire afternoon after the Sheriff’s visit.

When Leena gently knocked on the door, asking through it if Anja was joining them for shopping, she declined. Shortly after, when Charon asked her the same question through their bond, reminding her that she needed a new armor, she said nothing.

While her companions were out, she took the liberty of using the very small toilet and private shower in Leena’s house. The bathroom wasn’t more than just a large closet on the first floor underneath the stairs, rebuilt to accommodate the necessities needed to be called a bathroom at all. It was a rare luxury to have, however, and Anja couldn’t help but feel impressed by it. The water in the shower was cold, but not uncomfortably so. It tingled slightly of radiation. She took her time, washing thoroughly, and after that changing into a clean set of clothes Leena had given her.

When she emerged from the small bathroom, the robot Wadsworth offered her a bottle of cold purified water. Anja thanked him, and then retreated upstairs to her room.

She still wasn’t sure if she wanted to continue travelling with Leena and Charon, but she wasn’t about to walk out on the luxuries in this house. The couch she slept on in the guest room was softer than the beds in the common room, and access to a private bathroom was something she’d never had.

There was a lot of things she wasn’t sure about anymore, now that she knew about her soulmate. Even if he was a ghoul and nothing remotely close to what she wanted, Anja found herself drawn to him. And Leena was like a gravity field all by herself. The more time Anja spent with them, the more she doubted herself and her choice of life. Life as a scavenger seemed such a bleak existence now. Unimportant and feeble in comparison to Leena’s quest.

The Vault girø had her soulmate’s contract, and that alone was something Anja wanted to pay attention to. Although she liked Leena a great deal, Anja knew that a part of her wished the girl would just die or give up his contract. The decision about going with them to Paradise Falls had nothing to do with the slavers or Leena’s safety, and everything to do with Anja hoping that Leena died.

And that, hoping that someone you like would just die, was a hard state of mind even for Anja.

She felt like a vulture, circling Leena, waiting for the girl to meet her untimely death in the wasteland. And to make matters even worse, the fact that Leena always had Charon with her, she wasn’t likely to die anytime soon.

Anja was torn and uncertain. Disgusted by herself and how she felt, and not knowing how to feel differently, she was debating to just leave their company altogether. It would spare her a great deal of frustration. But then again, what kind of life was she returning to? What kind of value was there in scavenging?

Now that she’d had a taste of Leena’s adventures, she doubted herself even more. She doubted she could ever feel content just walking away from it all.

Settling down on the couch in her room, lying down on her side, her green eyes trailed the room’s interior. She stayed like that for a while, just lying there, relaxing into the soft cushions underneath her, pondering her own feelings.

Shortly after, her eyes shut, and she drifted asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it's not getting boring, with all the talking and feeling and thinking my characters are doing in these chapters.


	15. Chapter 15

**Rivet City**

 

The metal walls of Rivet City were damp with questionable maintenance. The rooms were small and suffocating, the doorways far too narrow. The ship’s hull reverberated with faint echoes of bangs and creaks, the source of the sounds unknown. Navigating through it was like walking trough a maze, but luckily someone had put up directions on every corner inn every corridor.

Charon didn’t mind that the security guards eyed him with watchful distrust when he passed them. The residents stayed mostly out of their way.

He walked behind the two women through the bowels of the ship, his shotgun holstered and safety on. But his eyes and ears were alert as ever, his muscles tense in a constant readiness. He moved through the narrow corridors like a hulking beast, shadowing the women while he scowled silent warnings at anyone whose eyes lingered for too long on his soulmate.

Anja was still with them, much to his great relief. Although she felt conflicted whenever he reached into their bond, she had decided to stay with them. He didn’t try to influence her ambivalence towards him or Leena, knowing that she needed to figure this out on her own. He had meant it when he asked her to figure out what she really wanted, and he’d give her time and space to do just that. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t keeping track of her mental progress from time to time.

She was still wearing that flimsy excuse of an armor, and Charon had given her a disapproving scowl when he assessed her unprotected state before they left Megaton. But Anja had shrugged at him, and then proceeded to stubbornly ignore him for the rest of that morning.

The journey through the DC ruins had been dangerous and tough. They’d fought several packs of feral ghouls, many super mutants, and an entire band of raiders. But they’d survived. In fact, they’d been able to walk away with just a few scrapes and minor bullet wounds.

He doubted they’d been able to do so well if Anja hadn’t been with them. Her extra gun and trained eyes proved invaluable time and time again, and Charon found himself trusting her with the safety of his employer.

Turning a corner in the corridor, they approached a metal door with the sign ‘Science Lab’ above it. Leena twisted the handle, opening it without hesitation and stepped through.

The science lab was big, the light ambient and dimmed by the small lamps inefficiently lighting the large room. Leena hurried down the metal staircase, going straight for her father James who was busy in a conversation with a stern-looking woman in a white coat.

“Dad!”

When James spotted his daughter, he cut off the conversation mid-sentence and embraced Leena in a long hug. “You made it,” he exhaled hard with relief.

Charon grasped the staircase’s railing, descending the steps slowly and slightly sideways. The steps were steep and short in between, like a ladder, and he had to catch his balance with his hands unless he fancied a tumble.  He heard his employer talk with her father.

“Of course, we made it. Those slavers are history. And we stayed in Megaton for a few days as well.”

“Of course, you made it,” James echoed warmly. “You’ve become so strong, honey. I’m proud of you.”

“I didn’t do it alone,” Leena’s voice murmured with equal warmth. “How’s your project going?”

Finally at the bottom of the stairs, Charon moved to stand next to Anja. She was keeping her distance from Leena and James, watching as the other scientists in the room surrounded the two Vault dwellers in a conversation about something called Project Purity.

Charon listened to their conversation with half an ear, glancing sideways at his soulmate’s face. Anja hadn’t spoken much to him after Megaton. Even now, her green eyes flickered slightly to him, and then moved forward again, pretending he wasn’t there.

He watched the scarred side of her face for a few seconds, biting down his frustration. Everything about this small woman had him on edge in some way or another. Her age compared to his, her human form compared to his ghoulish one, her size compared to his and how frail she seemed because of that. And then there was her hotheaded temper. And now her behavior.

Charon was aware that their bond rendered certain things out of their control. Now that they were close, their senses recognized each other as soulmates. Despite Anja’s empirical and well-placed fear of ghouls, she was instinctively drawn to him. And she was altering between fighting against it, and then accepting it, only to fight it again. Today, she was fighting it.

Come to think of it, he corrected himself, still watching her face from the side, she had more days fighting it than she had accepting it.

Redirecting his attention with a slight frown, he focused on his employer and her father. Adjusting his stance, he fell into a posture that was familiar to him; watching and waiting for further orders. They were talking about a G.E.C.K, whatever that was.

“If we can find one, we can adapt it to work with the purifiers,” James said to the stern-looking woman.

The woman frowned. “I’d like to believe you, James. But this is all so… sudden.”

James moved to grab the woman’s hands, looking at her intensely. Charon saw Leena’s eyes widen slightly at how intimate the action looked.

“Madison,” he said, looking between her eyes almost pleadingly. “I’m telling you this is real. I talked with Braun himself. He confirmed it. Don’t you see? This is what we’ve been waiting for!”

The woman sighed, looking down at the way James was holding her hands, her stern expression faltering. “I… I don’t know, James. So many years have passed. Is it really still worth trying?”

James stepped closer to the woman. “How could it not be wort improving the lives of everyone in the Wasteland? What could be a more worthy endeavor?”

His words had the woman smile a little, her eyes softening. “You haven’t lost any of your passion, have you James.”

The man glanced at Leena, his daughter, and he swallowed. “It’s as important to me as ever, Madison. I know it’s important to you too. Let’s finish it… Together.”

Charon saw the woman’s shoulders drop in an exhale, her sternness entirely gone. Very gently, she freed herself from James’ hands, looking up at him with sadness.

“James, I… We don’t have a G.E.C.K. I can get a small team together, but we’ll need proof that it works before people believe us.”

“I know,” James nodded. “I was thinking about that. The lab at the facility had some old pre-war computers that we scavenged. One of them might be useful.”

“From the last reports, there’s no power at the facility. Even if one of those computers had a database, we couldn’t access it”

“That’s why we need to head over there right now and get things up and running as best we can.”

The woman Madison shook her head with a small smile playing across her lips. “You know, if it were anyone else asking me to do this, I’d have them run right out of Rivet City.”

James reflected her small smile, dark eyes shining warmly at the woman. “But this is _me_ , Madison. You know I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think this would really work. It’s time.”

“Damn you, James. When this is all over,” her voice dipped an octave lower, pointing at his chest, “you owe me drink.”

Her response had James’s small smile widen.

The woman straightened her shoulders, falling back into the stern and proud attitude she’d had earlier. “I’ll get the team together.” She then proceeded to give the other scientists a nod, and they wordlessly broke up and returned to their stations.

James was silent a few moments, watching the other scientists while they followed the woman’s unspoken order. His dark eyes roamed the science lab’s interior, the equipment scattered around, the many different farming produce lying around, and then back to the woman. He nodded at her, smiling.

“Thank you Madison. It’ll be good to be working with you again.”

The woman glanced to Leena a second, nodding in response to James’ words. “I never thought this day would come. But here you are.” Then she shook her head, exhaling wit a sigh. “I must be crazy. But I’ll do this for you. Both of you.”

Turning her back to them, she walked away, immediately giving orders to her scientists about what equipment they needed.

Leena frowned at her father, her dark eyes deep and questioning. “Dad?”

“Honey?” James said, looking back at her with a masked expression.

“How do you know Dr. Li?”

The man sighed. “We used to work together. Me, Madison, and your mother.”

“I get that,” she frowned. “But who is she to you?”

“Someone I trust, Leena. Just leave it at that, please.”

Something in Charon’s peripheral vision stirred, and he broke his attention away from his employer and her father. Anja was stepping away, turning her back to Leena and James and walking towards a staircase. Feeling momentarily indecisive, he glanced at his employer, and then at his soulmate’s back while she reached the stairs and began climbing them. His eyes shifted back and forth, alarm tugging at the corners of his mind, causing him to flex his hands and shift his stance.

Anja had reached the top of the stairs, and opened one of the ship doors, slipping through it.

Leena’s dark eyes finally adjusted to his hazy gray ones, catching his slight distress. She nodded. “It’s okay, Charon. Go after her. I’ll find you later.”

He didn’t need to be ordered twice. Without a word, he spun around and climbed the steep staircase, quickly taking three steps at a time. Reaching into the bond, he saw Anja’s vision, heading through the narrow corridors, following the signs pointing her towards the stairwell.

He followed her through the door, taking long strides to catch up with her small frame at the end of the corridor. His steps clanged slightly off the metal surface of the deck floor.

Anja turned slightly to look over her shoulder. Her vision was still overlapping his own, and he saw himself approach her, filling up the space of the dimly lit corridor like a monster on the hunt, head tilted slightly downwards and hat shadowing his features.

Slowing his strides, he adjusted his approach, slipping out of the bond and the image of himself. She stopped, waiting for him to catch up with her. Her features revealed annoyance.

“What? You worried I’ll run off? Don’t you trust me?”

Charon stopped in front of her, attentive to the fact that she stepped away to steal back some distance between them. “I am,” he confirmed with a small nod. “When you walk away without a word like that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I needed permission.” Her glare was steely and she backed more steps away, before turning around and continue her walk.

Charon wordlessly followed. An unbidden desire to grab her and haul her into one of the empty cabins swirled inside of him, and he pushed it down with forceful determination. He knew what it was, and he suspected that Anja wouldn’t appreciate that kind of possessive behavior from him. Every instinct added to him by the bond was protesting fiercely to his soulmate walking away. But Charon had a trained mind, and he knew he could control those instincts, no matter how painful it was.

He idly wondered if she knew. If she had any idea at all what her dismissive behavior was doing to him. In all honesty, this small smoothskin should count herself lucky she was bonded to him. Most males wouldn’t be able to control themselves that well, and Anja would’ve found herself cornered a long time ago had he been like them.

But cornering Anja would be like cornering a frightened yao guai cub. Small, but still dangerous, and very likely to break loose and flee.

An annoyed sound escaped her, and she glanced at him over her shoulder. “Let me guess. Leena told you to follow me? You wouldn’t leave her side unless she ordered you to.”

 _Follow_ , and _go after_. Those were the same thing, weren’t they? Charon swallowed the bitterness in his mouth, failing to hold back his hoarse response. “Yes.”

She chuckled. It was a sarcastic and unfriendly sound. “Figures.”

“You forget,” he grumbled, glaring at her slim and fragile-looking shoulders. “I have left her side without orders before.”

“Once,” she scoffed. “While she was sleeping safely in Megaton.”

 _Go after_. An order without any aspect of time or action. An order Charon would normally detest, maybe even openly object to. But he hadn’t objected, because he had _wanted_ to go after Anja. But now he wished he had objected. He wished he had taught Leena more about how to speak to him, how to phrase her commands. Because she was unknowingly giving him orders that was ruining the small amount of autonomy he had.

Frowning, he stopped, immediately feeling a slight pain in the back of his skull when Anja kept walking away from him. Then the shocking realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He hadn’t left Leena without orders that night. Leena had, before she went to bed, _ordered_ them to work out their issues.

And Charon had done exactly that, hadn’t he? He had followed Anja to the bar, watched over her while she faced her attacker. Talked to her, made sure she was fine, made sure she wasn’t harboring fear anymore. He’d stayed with her, so that they could work out their issues regarding Anja’s odd behavior prior to coming to Megaton.

He had made sure that man would never repeat his crime. He had made sure Anja would be safe from that man’s retaliation.

He had solved their issue.

The pain in his skull intensified, and with a silent growl, he hurried to catch up with Anja just as she slipped through the door to the stairwell.

It was an odd realization, to know he’d worked under orders he had genuinely wanted to follow. The line between an order and an autonomous decision blurred, and it made his skin crawl. He’d always hated his employers, hated every order they’d given him. He’d hated with such intensity that it was frightening even to himself.

And now he was following his soulmate, ordered to do it, but also wanting it.

Then another, equally startling thought forced its way into his mind. _Why_ wasn’t he giving into the instinctive desire to grab her to a stop? Where did the line between orders and his own self-control go?

Frowning, Charon hurried his strides into a determined march, feeling the pain fade as he got closer to Anja. He slammed the door open just as it was about to shut behind her, startling her slightly. Her angry scowl visibly faltered into surprised panic when he walked right up to her, grabbing her and shoving her towards the metal wall. One of his palms pushed at her chest, keeping enough pressure on her to hold her still.

“W-what are you doing?” she breathed. Her earthly green eyes were wide while she stared up at him, arms extended in a tense signal of defeat. Her hands were shaking, he could feel her heartbeats against his palm, and he kept it there, making sure she didn’t move.

The dull pain in his skull slowly crept back, creeping around the edges of his deliberate defiance. He wasn’t going after her now. She wasn’t _going_ anywhere, because he was keeping her from doing so.

“Ignoring orders,” he rasped, closing his eyes to assess the pain. It was deep, enough to dwindle his concentration, but not enough to provoke him into the blinded frenzy that would cause him to lose control. He was well acquainted with pain, and this was one he could deal with.

He felt something else, too. Something he was sure Anja felt as well. The bond between them hummed, almost vibrated. It felt like it had when he’d touched her arm, caressing it gently. Their collective instincts recognized each other’s proximity, wanting to encourage them onwards. Charon had known he’d felt it when he’d carried her into Megaton. But he’d been too preoccupied about his own worries to give it any acknowledgement, and she’d been too angry to even notice.

Now, however, it was strong and hard to miss.

Opening his eyes, he found her green gaze, holding it while he reached out with his mind, unsurprised to find her reaching back. Once they connected, a breathy and barely audible gasp escaped through her half-parted lips, her eyes rolled back a little.

…

 

Anja wasn’t sure what she had expected. She had left the science lab because she had very little interest in overhearing Leena and James’ personal conversation. The Vault girl’s feelings about a woman who may or may not have been her father’s lover wasn’t any of Anja’s business.

The fact that Charon followed her wasn’t even close to as annoying as it should be. But of course, she just had to say something snarky about his employment. It was as if she couldn’t stop herself, and when Charon confirmed that _yes_ , Leena had told him to follow her, the bile in her mouth was real.

He grabbed hold of her with strong hands and shoved her up against the cold metal wall, glaring down at her with a terrifying expression across his scarred features. His demenaor was just as frightening as it had been on their first encounter. His hand was large and warm against the fabric on her chest. It was the only part of him that was touching her. The rest of him remained at an arm’s length away.

He was ignoring orders, he said. Anja hadn’t even known he could do that.

Her heart was taking wild and unwelcome jumps in her chest while something else stirred within her. With a startling realization, she recognized it. It was building inside her, working its way up from her lower abdomen. She’d felt it in Paradise Falls when Charon had caressed her arm, and it carried with it a burning hotness that made her blush.

He’d said to her then, that touching should be comfort. But this wasn’t comfort. This wasn’t even the early stages of arousal. This was _need_. A primal and visceral need to be close to the ghoul who was holding her still. He wasn’t really restraining her, but the simple pressure from his hand was enough for her to know that he was capable of doing it if he wanted to. And that alone was also something that made her feel burning hot.

Needing to understand, Anja tried to reach into their bond. She needed to know why this was happening, how he could ignore orders like that. Why was she feeling so weak and pliable, as if she was melting into the hand on her chest?

Her mind grasped along the edges of their bond, trying to pull at his attention, to break through to him. She had no idea if it worked, but when he opened his hazy gray eyes again, he pinned her gaze in his own. There was a subtle flash of something feral in his eyes, a quick expression where he looked like he was about to bare his teeth at her.

And then she felt the bond open between them.

Suddenly, a wave of pain and raw yearning washed over her. It was forceful and crushing, and she gasped in shock while it pulled her under. It was hard to breathe, as if she was drowning. Her head lolled back to the metal wall behind her, and she faintly registered that the ghoul came closer, his large frame filling her vision entirely. He steadied himself by resting his other hand against the wall next to her head, watching her face intently. The pain was sharp, drilling into the back of her skull and making her vision flash of lightning. It was excruciating and numbing, distorting her thoughts until it consumed her.

But the pain didn’t fully consume her, because she could still feel the throbbing and raw yearning that mixed into the sensations. And that, too, was mind-numbing and close to painful. Unlike the pain at the back of her skull, this yearning moved over her in waves, lapping greedily at her nerves all the way from her toes and up her legs, moving through her abdomen and bursting into her chest.

Her hands shot out, grasping for something to hold, finding Charon’s armor. The pain wasn’t receding, and neither was the yearning. The latter grew stronger, centering into a spot inside her that made her _want_ him. And no matter how hard she tried, how many times she blinked or closed her eyes, her mind refused to ignore it.

She began to panic, breathing in hyperventilated gasps. A strange sound escaped her, a mixture of a groan and a plea to make it stop. When she tugged at the ghoul’s armor, he leaned closer.

Every inhale was strained and shaky, and every exhale was harsh and quick. She was clutching the front of his armor like a madwoman about to drown. A sound she’d normally be mortified to let anyone hear followed one of the exhales; a weak whimper. But she wasn’t in a state of mind to care. All she needed was for it to stop. For Charon to pull away and break off the exchange he was creating through their bond.

“Breathe,” the ghoul rasped, applying more pressure behind the hand on her chest. “Come on,” he urged. His voice was lowered and hoarse, sounding strained, and he was moving himself closer to her. _“Breathe,”_ he repeated, whispering the words through the bond, speaking right into her mind.

“H-how?” she managed to stutter in between the panicked breaths. “Wha-hat is...this?”

“Pain,” he answered, speaking through his teeth. “From defying orders.” His head lowered next to her head, and Anja could hear his strained breaths close to her ear. “And our need to mate.”

The yearning was growing, almost successfully overshadowing the pain and filling her head with illogical ideas and unwelcome questions regarding his armor and how to remove it. When her hands clutched harder at the armor, pulling him closer, a jolt of intense and heated craving shot right into her center between her legs. She knew the ghoul could feel it too, judging by his immediate groan that sounded like a mixture between a growl and a strangled moan.

“Please,” Anja choked thickly. She wanted to cry. The experience was too much, too powerful for her to handle. “Please, stop.”

…

 

Charon heard her whispered plea and lifted his head, gazing down at her face. Her earthly green eyes were halfway open, her teeth clenched in a grimace of pain. He knew she was feeling what he was feeling, and he was also feeling her. He was feeling everything through her, even himself. It was like a feedback loop of hers and his feeling that would never end unless he stopped it. She was shaking hard, and a tear loosened from the corner of one of her eyes, trailing down her cheek. She was seconds away from a sob and a cry.

Reining his self-control back in, Charon stumbled back and away from her, releasing her from his presence. The pain at the back of his head disappeared. He quickly pulled his feelings back from the bond, wrapping his mental control around it, ending the exchange so abruptly it caused them both to stagger from discomfort. It was like ripping the bandage off a wound all too soon, exposing the thin and sensitive skin underneath to the harsh environment.

Restraining her had been a direct violation of the order to _go after her_ , but his conditioning had difficulties recognizing it as a full-blown defiance, and the pain had been bearable.

To _him_ , he corrected himself, looking at Anja’s face. She was still leaning against the wall, eyes closed, inhaling deeply with controlled breaths, clenching her teeth. Her face was still twisted by the shock of the experience.

The pain had been bearable to _him_.

Rubbing his face in exasperation, Charon backed further away from her. His previous thoughts about how lucky she should feel that she was bonded to him echoed in his head, mocking him with cruel intensity.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to rasp, pinching the bridge of what was left of his nose. “I didn’t mean to… I’m so sorry.”

And with that, like a coward, he fled.

This time, the conditioning recognized his actions as a full-blown defiance. The moment the metal door closed behind him, shutting him away from Anja’s presence, pain immediately lurched into his skull. He caught himself against a wall, steadying his balance, eyes hard as he willed his legs to keep walking.

Groaning, he took two more steps, three, four, slowing down as if his feet weighed an extra ton by each step. The pain intensified, causing him to almost crumble to the floor. Big enough to reach the walls on either side of the corridor, his hands shot out to them, holding himself upright. Somewhere in the corridor, a metal door clanged shut. His eyes caught a glimpse of a woman further down the corridor.

The woman was one of the residents of the ship. She stopped and stared at him, mouth hung open in shock, eyes wide with fear. Charon growled, panting hard but controlled through the pain, and forced his legs to take another step forward. The woman gasped and shrieked, and scurried into a side room, closing the door firmly, locking it securely.

Charon shook his head to will the blurred edges of his vision to disappear. He could feel himself slip, his head spinning as a red color began to flicker around him. This wasn’t working. If he lost control, he’d be turning on his heel and storming right back to Anja. But it wouldn’t be him. Anja wouldn’t recognize him. Luckily for them both, his orders had nothing to do with causing her harm.

Every muscle in his body was screaming in protest when he tried to take another step, and before Charon even realized it himself, he had turned back around and stumbled a step back the way he’d come from.

Suddenly his vision cleared, seeing a familiar little figure stand just a few feet away from him. The pain receded a little.

“What I just went through,” she said, warily eyeing the way he was holding himself upright by the walls. “That was nothing, huh?”

“Anja?” he panted, seeing how she was cringing slightly.

“I still feel you,” she explained. “Faint, like the echo. But bad.”

Charon froze, watching silently while she cautiously stepped towards him. She was guarding his hands, his movements, but by every step closer, the pain diminished. When she stood right in front of him, it was mostly gone.

And that’s when Charon realized he could still feel her too. No matter how hard he was trying to close off the bond completely, he still felt her. Like an echo of her inside his mind, confused at the moment, but very much there as an entity of its own and not his imagination. He wondered, watching her face, if their exchange had reinforced the bond somehow.

He didn’t say anything when she slipped under one of his arms, tugging at it to loosen it from the wall. He relaxed and allowed her to pull him with her down the corridor.

“Come on,” she murmured, small hands grasping the uncovered arm, feeling the skin of her palms against his, feeling through the bond how touching his scars made her shudder.

“Where?” he rasped, seeing that she wasn’t heading for the science lab.

She turned a corner in the corridor and gestured towards a sign that read ‘Weatherly Hotel’. “Somewhere private.”

Charon caught the tinge of distress coming from her, and quickly pulled his arm back from her grasp, making her stop to look at him. She raised an eyebrow, nonchalantly waiting for him to speak. But she didn’t fool him. The distress was growing inside her by the second. Why would she try to act that it didn’t, when she knew damn well that he could feel her?

“Why?” he asked, watching her face closely.

Anja frowned. “You want this, right? We both know it.”

“What are you talking about?”

Dodging his question, she turned and resumed walking. “I’m going there. If you don’t want to follow me, that’s fine. Go back to Leena.”

Charon stood there for a few seconds too long, watching in stunned silence as Anja shrugged and kept walking towards the hotel. When she reached a certain distance and disappeared into the hotel, pain began poking at his skull again. Groaning, he followed, cursing under his breath when he caught up with her a little too late. She was already speaking with the robot receptionist. One of the robot’s hydraulic arms extended and dropped a key into her palm.

“No,” Charon stopped her when she moved to walk past him.

“I’m renting a room, and you can’t stop me.” Stubbornly she slipped past him and walked back out into the corridor, looking at the numbers on the doors, searching for the number of her room.

Charon stalked behind her, sensing her rapidly increasing distress and now also fear. It made her heartbeats slightly too fast, and her knees slightly too weak. Technically, he could stop her. He’d just proven that the pain of stopping her from going anywhere was something he could manage. He _should_ stop her, he knew that. And yet, he didn’t.

Finding her room, she slipped the key inside the door, and it swung open.

“Anja?” Charon asked hesitantly when she stepped inside the room, eyeing its interior, and then turning to face him. He was still standing outside the room, grasping the doorframe with one hand, feeling himself balance on the edge between following orders and defying them.

Her nonchalant expression dropped, and her shoulders tensed. “Let’s just… Let’s get this over with.”

“Get _what_ over with, exactly?” he grumbled, watching while she kicked her shoes off. Her bare feet were bruised and pale, looking like they were freezing cold. Socks were a rare luxury in the Wasteland.

“This,” she gestured between them, glancing towards the bed in the room, tensing even further.

Something inside him chilled, and he welcomed the coldness without hesitation. Watching her closely, he calmly took one long and measured step into the room, crossing the threshold. He noticed her sharp inhale of breath, and her lack of exhale. Her green eyes drifted from his feet and up to his chest, roaming over his frame.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked bluntly, noticing how she flinched by the harshness of his voice.

“Call it whatever you want,” she exhaled, lowering her head to pull her leather coat off. “Fucking, sex, copulation, _mating_. It’s the same thing.” She tossed the leather coat to the side, and then fixed her gaze on him again, frowning. “Close the door?”

Charon wordlessly complied, closing the door with one hand without removing his gaze from her face. It put her off balance and made her eyes instinctively flick to the door. It almost made him laugh, despite that it wasn’t funny. She was inviting him in there with every intention of having sex with him, and she was checking for ways to escape even before they’d gotten their clothes off.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, taking another step into the room, careful not to spook her completely, but decisive enough to watch her squirm while she tried to stay still.

His question had her scoff. “You know that it is. Didn’t you feel that just minutes ago? We both want this. _Need_ this. So, let’s just get it over with.”

“You don’t even know if I _can_ ,” he interjected with a small smile. “I’m a ghoul.”

Anja’s eyes trailed down his body. “True,” she admitted. “But I’m guessing you would’ve protested harder to this if that was the case. But you haven’t said anything so far, so, I’m assuming you have the parts you need.”

 _Fair enough_ , he thought, giving her a small nod, seeing how that made her hold back a grimace.

“Let’s assume we do this,” he said, trailing after her when she moved further into the room, turning her back to him to slip her tank top over her head. His eyes trailed down her naked backside, seeing the several faint scars from old wounds. Some of those had been left there by her caretaker, Eric. “Let’s assume we just got this _over with_ , as you say. What do you think will happen afterwards?”

Anja shielded her breasts with her shirt, not turning to look at him. Glancing over her shoulder, he saw her wavering expression. “We release some steam? Get it out of our system?” Her voice was thin and vulnerable.

“There’s no such thing as getting this out of our systems, Anja,” he responded slowly, voice softer this time. “Not with soulmates.”

Her gaze drifted sideways to him when he entered slightly in her field of vision. “No?”

“No.” He shook his head. “This is a point of no return. Are you ready for that? You can still feel me after our exchange out there in the stairwell. How do you imagine our bond will behave after sex?”

Biting her lip, Anja’s gaze lowered. Her arms held tighter at the shirt in front of her breasts. Charon felt her decision falter, her relief when she realized that she didn’t have to do this after all. Then he sensed a misplaced and insecure guilt coming from her, and he frowned. Did she think this was what he wanted? Was she worried he’d be disappointed in her if she didn’t do it after all?

Charon wouldn’t have that. Not from her. Not ever. “I don’t want this,” he added, rounding her slowly, looking into her eyes and not anywhere else. “Not now. Maybe later, maybe never, but _not now_.”

Anja nodded, moving to turn away and slip her shirt back on. Charon watched the muscles in her back while she worked the shirt down over her shoulders and backside, pushing down the slightly possessive feeling that was stirring inside him. He’d never been good at talking, but he knew that this time he’d excelled at it. And it felt good. The last thing he wanted was to ruin it by letting it slip into their bond that _yes_ , he wanted this. It was true that he didn’t want it now, not until she was ready. But he did want it. And he’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t be disappointed, if it turned out that Anja was never going to want it.

Once she had adjusted her shirt back on, Anja turned to look at him. Charon kept his gaze above her chest, knowing that the shirt was white, worn, and almost see-through. She opened her mouth, about to say something, and then someone banged on their door, startling them both.

“Anja? Charon?” Leena’s voice called through the door, sounding dulled and far away while she banged again. “You guys in there?”

Glancing back at each other, their faces fell into familiar expressions; his indifferent and stoic, hers slightly scowling and cold. And then they turned, together, walking up to the door and opening it up for the Vault girl.

…

 

Anja swallowed the remains of her mirelurk cake and took a swing of her beer, feeling the foam burn against her throat. The Weatherly Hotel’s bar had a decent selection of beers, but not much else. The food was good though, tasting fresh and deliciously seasoned. She assumed mirelurks were a common game around these parts.

She sat at the end of a table, watching her companions drink and eat. James was with them as well, and he and Leena was doing most of the talking. They were planning to leave the next morning, together with Dr. Li and her team of scientists. James seemed to think that the old computers he’d scavenged many years ago might hold some information on how to locate this G.E.C.K thing they were talking about.

If Anja understood correctly, the G.E.C.K was a terraforming device that could purify the waters of the Wasteland. She had to admit, it was a noble thought, even though it sounded more like the ramblings of a crazed madman than a respected scientist.

Leena was all aboard with James’ noble quest, and he looked to be practically bursting with pride. He praised her several times during the meal, repeating how he was looking forward to working side-by-side with her, now that she was a grown woman.

“And you,” James said brightly, extending his hands towards Anja and Charon, causing them both to freeze momentarily. “I’m looking forward to working alongside my daughter’s best friends. I can’t even express how grateful I am for all that you’ve done for her. Knowing she was out there with the two of you watching her back, it made me feel certain she was going to be fine.”

Charon didn’t reply. He sat there and met the man’s gaze with his own, pale and cold one. James chuckled, but his smile stiffened insecurely. He moved his gaze to Anja, tilting his head questioningly, blinking and waiting for some kind of response. Was he waiting for them to confirm his adoration of his daughter, as if the vault kid was some god-like being?

Glaring daggers at the stoic ghoul, briefly hating him for throwing her under the bus like that, Anja cleared her throat.

“Well… Leena is certainly… uhm… special to us both.”

“Is that so?” the man prodded, ignoring his daughter’s careful tugs at his shirt.

Anja looked at Leena, suddenly smiling brightly with a speculative grin. “Yeah. You know, Charon here would do _anything_ for her. Right, Leena?” In her peripheral vision, she saw the large ghoul stiffen beside her. Leena rolled her eyes and sighed.

James, however, reflected Anja’s smile with one of his own, looking smug and secretive. “Oh, but I bet he’d do even more for you, Anja?” he sipped his beer causally. “I mean, I know he’s bound by his contract and all that. But you Anja… You’re important to him on a personal level.”

Narrowing her eyes at the man for a few seconds, Anja leaned over the table towards Leena glaring at her and not concealing the venom in her voice. “What did you tell him?”

“Relax Anja,” Leena sighed. “My father is a scientist, and he knows quite a lot about soulmates.”

 “Alright, Mr. Scientist,” Anja growled, looking right at James. “Explain to me this; how can I be bonded to an over 200 years old ghoul?”

James shook his head. “The nature of soulmates was a scientifically interesting subject even before the war. The phenomenon occurred more and more frequently as the years passed and overpopulation threatened. The scientists didn’t fully understand _how_ soulmates were selected, but the newest research I’ve come across suggested it might have something to do with the soulmates being genetically compatible. Children of soulmates tended to be overall physically healthier than children of non-soulmates. I guess you can call it nature’s way of cleaning up the genetic mess created by humans breeding wildly and subjectively, instead of objectively producing healthy and strong offspring.”

Leaning back in her chair, Anja raised an eyebrow at the man. “Really?”

“Yes,” James nodded. “Also, longitudinal studies reported that children who grew up with their soulmate parents had happier childhoods. The bond between the parents created a stable and safe environment for the children to grow up in. The difference between children of soulmates and children of non-soulmates were so shocking, in fact, that soulmates became highly sought after as candidates for foster-homes and adoption programs.”

Anja blinked slowly, still watching the man as he sipped his beer. When he swallowed, he shrugged, lowering his eyes to the table with a frown.

“Of course, the findings of this research weren’t received well by the public. I mean, these scientists basically marked the soulmates and their children as genetically superior to the rest of the population. And to make matters worse, children of soulmates, always, without any known proof of the contrary, also had soulmates. And when more and more children of non-soulmates were born sterile, there was an uproar. Speculation and conspiracy theories flourished. Some beliefs blamed the government, saying that this was the government culling the population into cost-efficient superhumans. Some beliefs blamed the communists, thinking that it was their way of planting super-soldiers and spies in enemy countries. Religious groups were convinced it was God himself who intervened, and others even blamed aliens, saying that it was aliens who planted their own genes into humans.”

“Very fascinating,” Anja grumbled. “You’re not answering my question, doctor.”

James lifted his gaze from the table, seeing that Anja made a small gesture towards the large ghoul sitting next to her. His eyes fell onto the ghoul slowly.

“Oh,” he said, seemingly remembering why Anja had asked about it in the first place. “Right. 200-year-old ghoul.”

“Right,” Anja echoed pointedly. “Any thoughts?”

James frowned scrutinizing the stoic ghoul with his eyes. Anja glanced at Charon, seeing that he was taking it well, considering they were in fact discussing him and how impossible it was for him to be her soulmate. The ghoul just sat there, looking back at James with a blank expression, not revealing to anyone what he was feeling. But Anja could still faintly feel him after their exchange earlier that day, and she knew that the ghoul was listening with interest.

“Well,” James finally said, searching for words while he gave the ghoul a clinical look. “I have to ask; are you still fertile?”

Charon barked a laugh, sudden and loud. “I’m a ghoul. I’m lucky my balls are there at all.”

“Right,” James nodded. “But are you sure you’re not fertile?”

“You guys,” Leena interjected, voice hushed. “Are you sure this is a fitting conversation to be having _here_ , in this bar?”

“I don’t mind,” Anja shrugged, looking between the others.

“Well, we are discussing a personal topic,” James said thoughtfully. “Would you like to go somewhere else, Charon? I’m sure we can borrow Madison’s lab, if you’d like to find out whether any… uh… swimmers, survived the ghoulification.”

Charon stiffened. “You can do that?”

“Yes. It’s quite simple, really,” James nodded.

“Whoa whoa,” Anja protested. “Hold on there. His _swimmers_ are not what we’re talking about here.”

“Oh, but it is Anja,” James chuckled. “If it turns out that this ghoul still has some functional and undamaged sperm cells, we can conclude with quite amount of certainty that that’s why the two of you were bonded in the first place.”

“Come on,” Anja protested. “How likely is that? He’s a ghoul. He’s lived for over 200 years. There’s no way his sperm would survive for that long.”

“You don’t know much about anatomy, do you?” James asked, the question slightly offensive, but also lecturing and matter-of-factly. “The male body produces millions of sperm cells every day. Granted, a fertile ghoul has never been heard of before, but that doesn’t mean it can’t ever happen. For something to be a dead certain law, it must be a constant truth, not just in the past but also in the present and in all unconceivable future. And we can’t know the future, so we can’t dismiss it will ever be a possibility.”

Anja groaned, rubbing her temples. “Ugh.” Why had her question about soulmates turned into a conversation about Charon’s testicles? It was almost laughable, if it wasn’t for the fact that it was her soulmate they were talking about. She could feel his presence through the bond, and much to her annoyance, he was thoroughly intrigued by James’ words “Ugh,” she repeated, grimacing.

“You’re saying it’s not impossible?” the ghoul rasped slowly.

“I’m saying that I would like to test you. Ghouls regenerate cells a at a rate no human can match. Most ghouls are small, and often weak and soft. Their muscles have dwindled, the regeneration of cells in their bodies have been reduced to sustain only the most crucial functions. But you, my friend, are unlike any ghoul I’ve ever heard of. Your mere size suggest that you might still be regenerating cells throughout your entire body. Who’s to say that your reproductive organs are not still functioning very well.”

“Alright,” Anja chuckled nervously, rising from her chair. “You guys have fun. I’m tired, and I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll join you,” Leena murmured, also rising from the chair. “I’ll see you two in the morning,” she said to the two males still sitting at the table. “Charon, you have no standing orders for tonight.”

The ghoul gave Leena a nod, and then shifted his gaze to Anja, giving her a small nod as well.

Anja turned on her heel and walked out of the bar, hearing the Vault kid right behind her.

…

 

She hunched behind a ruined roadblock, glancing over it, peering into the darkness ahead. The hoarse hisses and grunts from the pack of feral ghouls echoed off the tunnel walls. By the sound of it, they were many. She couldn’t see them clearly in the dark, just barely distinguish their shapes. Their movements were slightly jerky and sluggish, their backs hunched.

She waited, feeling her own heartbeats thud uncomfortably by the tension in her limbs. The air was sour and dusty to breathe, and she fought down several reflexive coughs, clutching her own hand over her mouth to silence herself. Her leather armor creaked when she shifted her position slightly to ease out the stiffness in her knees. How long had she been sitting there now? Minutes? Hours?

It was hard to think. As if her brain was working too slow. As if she was under the influence of chems or alcohol. But she wasn’t. She hadn’t used chems since that time she almost died. Since her soulmate had spoken to her for the first time.

Glancing behind her, she frowned. Where was he, by the way? Had he gone somewhere, with Leena? Anja closed her eyes hard, trying to concentrate. Why couldn’t she remember?

The sound of wet thumps from rotten feet on the concrete floor caught her attention, and Anja peered over the roadblock again. Two of the feral ghouls had separated from the rest of the pack and began shambling in her direction. The sound grew increasingly louder as they approached, and she ducked back into her hiding spot. Anja could smell them in the air; a sickening sweet smell of decaying flesh and coppery blood. Half dead, half alive. She gagged silently, clasping her hand over her mouth and nose, trying to block out the smell.

The sounds came closer. She stilled to a complete freeze when she heard them on the other side of the roadblock, just a few feet away from her. They were making strange sounds, choking and rasping their throats, as if they were trying to use their voices.

Anja could hear her own heartbeats thunder in her ears, her blood rushing through her veins in anticipation of a fight. Very gently, her hand reached for her gun, only to find the holster at her hip empty.

Shocked, she grasped for the Chinese assault rifle strapped to her back, only to find that weapon missing too. She quickly dug her hand down into her boot, searching for the knife strapped to her ankle. But that was gone as well. Her heartbeats shifted gear, intensifying into an uneven and fearful rhythm.

What the hell was going on? Why was she facing a pack of feral ghouls unarmed?

The two ferals on the other side of the roadblock sniffed the air, gulping it down in big mouthfuls. They sounded agitated, inhaling the air as if they could taste her fear on it. Anja began backing away from the roadblock, very slowly and quietly. She’d heard that some ferals developed stronger senses when their eyesight disintegrated.

Suddenly, one of the ferals groaned loudly, a lengthy and deep sound that ended in a hoarse and vibrating growl. Horrorstruck, Anja gazed upwards, seeing the top of one of the ghouls’ body over the roadblock. It was a large creature, and it was wearing a sheriff’s hat, and it was staring right at her with pale, blind eyes.

It lowered itself slightly, ready to leap over the roadblock, its hoarse growl intensified into a vicious scream that alerted the entire pack to her presence. They responded with croaks and hisses of their own, echoing and filling the entire tunnel with noise.

Scrambling backwards, Anja shot to her feet the same second as the large feral leapt over the roadblock. But her legs were unwilling to move, slow as if she was wading through mud. A terrified scream escaped her, but it came out of her mouth as nothing more than a thin whimper.

She stumbled forward, trying to force her legs into running. But every muscle was numb and weak.

The large feral ghoul reached her. It grabbed her by the collar of her armor, jerking her to a stop. Anja screamed again, and again it was just a whimper. She tried kicking it, turning around and twisting in its grasp. She saw that it was wearing a leather armor that had once been heavy and strong, and now was torn partially to pieces, exposing the rotting state of its flesh.

It threw her back towards the other ghouls, making her fall right into the approaching herd. Anja screamed again, kicking wildly at the ghouls grasping her with sticky hands. They hissed and growled, crowding her, grabbing her limbs and began pulling.

She twisted, tried to pry herself loose, but the ghouls were many and pulling at each their direction. All of them were screaming madly. One of them bit her upper arm, its rotten teeth dug deep into her flesh, tearing off a piece of her.

She could feel her other arm dislocate with pop. The muscles in her legs were stretching painfully. One of the ghouls was pulling at her head, and she felt her neck straighten, and then suddenly come loose. She couldn’t scream anymore. Her vision flickered, and then she fell. She rolled around, seeing everything in a blur before she came to a hard stop that crunched her skull.

She saw the pack of ferals from an odd angle, from the ground and slightly skewed. They were pulling a limp and headless body apart, tearing into it and feeding off it. One of the ghouls were prying the body’s armor away, digging into the stomach area and pulling out bloody pieces of organs.

Blinking slowly, her eyes focused behind the pack, seeing the large ghoul, watching the herd with pale and big eyes. It just stood there, hunched over, impassively watching while she was being torn apart by its own kind.

 She opened her mouth and tried to scream, tried to yell, but not a single sound escaped her.

 _“Anja.”_ A hand grabbed her shoulder, shaking her gently. _“Wake up,”_ a gravel and hoarse voice commanded.

Opening her eyes, Anja bolted to sit upright, panting hard.

The large ghoul was kneeling next to her bed, looking at her with pale and hazy grey eyes. An immediate jolt of shock surged through her, and she checked her arms and legs, touching her damp neck, feeling herself still in one piece. Still panting, she exhaled to calm down.

“Bad dream?” the ghoul asked, watching her.

“Yeah,” she nodded, wiping away some of the hair stuck on her forehead. She’d been sweating. “Could you feel that?”

The ghoul shook his head a little. “You were making noises.”

“Right. Sorry.” Lying back down, she was still trying to calm her breathing and the frantic beating of her heart. The dream had seemed so real, her limbs were still numb from the sensation of being pulled off her body. Her neck hurt, and her head was pounding with a splitting headache. Rubbing her eyes, she sighed. “Shit, that was intense.”

The ghoul was watching her face with a slight frown. “You want to talk about it?”

She glanced at him warily. “No. I’m fine.”

He looked at her for a few more seconds, eyes holding her gaze. Then he nodded and rose to his full height. “If you change your mind, you know how to find me.”

Anja didn’t respond, and silently watched the large ghoul as he turned and exited the room, dipping his head not to bump it into the upper frame, and then closing the metal door behind him. Once he had left, she took a few more deep and calming breaths and shifted to her side to lie more comfortably, willing sleep to come again.

Before she fell asleep again, she idly wondered if Charon had taken James up on his offer and checked himself. Truth be told, Anja wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I totally went far out with my explanation of why soulmates exist, didn’t I? XD We’ll get more explanations later, but I can’t promise they’ll make total sense. 
> 
> Sorry about the delayed update, by the way. Preparations for the holidays and work had me busy. I’ll try to update again before new-year, but no promises. 
> 
> Remember; kudos and comments are appreciated ;)


	16. Chapter 16

**The Waters of Life**

 

They were walking along the river from Rivet City towards Jefferson Memorial. Charon was walking at the front of the group, eyes trailing the ruins on one side and the riverbank on the other for dangers, shotgun held at the ready in both hands. Within seconds, they could find themselves flanked by super mutants or mudcrabs, or both.

He listened for the people behind him, hearing their boots crunch slightly on the ruined road by every step. There were 9 people in total trailing behind him, including Dr. Li’s team of scientists. They didn’t speak, affected by the tension in the air, by his harsh shushing whenever they made any noise.

A faint splash from the dirty river had his eyes immediately shoot towards the sound. He paused, stiffly signaling with one hand at the people to stop and keep their distance. Watching the slow small waves in the water, he readied his shotgun, cocking it towards the riverbank. The waves dulled and calmed, eventually stopping. Sometimes, mudcrabs would burrow into the sand and then try to lure prey to investigate, only to pop up at the right moment.

“Stay clear of the water,” he murmured just loud enough for the people to hear, and them motioned them to keep walking.

This was such a bad idea, he had no words left to express how much he disagreed with it. Leena could be infuriatingly resistant to his advice, and this time she was hearing his warnings with deaf ears.

Adjusting his hat to shield his eyes from the sun, Charon rolled his shoulders a little to ease out the tension on them. Shifting his grip on the shotgun, his attention was of their surroundings while they approached their destination.

“The place is sure to be overtaken by super mutants,” a female voice said behind him. He recognized it as Dr. Li’s sour and slightly snobbish voice.

“I’ve been here before. Leave that to us,” Leena said, sounding equally sour. She wasn’t liking the doctor very much, but she tolerated her presence simply because James had said they needed her expertise.

“I’m sure your fiends can handle it,” James hummed in agreement.

“Quiet,” Charon growled, tensing when he spotted movement in the distance, on top of the metal catwalks that surrounded the memorial.

Everyone silenced, watching the green figure run along the catwalk from the front of the building to the side, not spotting them as it disappeared from sight. The area they had to cross in order to get to the memorial was open and offered very little cover. If one of those mutants had a missile launcher, they were dead for sure.

Searching the area for a more tactical approach, even considering the waters, Charon lowered his weapon. “This is going to hurt,” he grumbled, turning to look at the people behind him. “Which of you can carry a gun, and aim it?”

Dr. Li extended her hands in frustration. “No one. We’re scientists, not fighters.”

“Wasn’t asking you,” Charon grumbled, giving her a sharp look that had her pale and scoot back to hide behind her colleagues. “Anyone?”

A small hand rose to the air. “I can.” The other scientists stepped aside, revealing a fragile-looking woman with straight, brown hair and big, blue eyes.

“Janice?” one of the men asked in surprise.

“I-I know how to shoot,” she insisted, voice shaking. “I used to hunt with my father. I can handle a rifle.”

“Good,” Charon nodded, and retrieved a scavenged hunting rifle off from his back, unceremoniously tossing it to her. He also tossed her a box of bullets.

The woman was barely able to catch the weapon, and she clumsily dropped the box of bullets to the ground. Blushing and cursing softly under her shaking breath, she adjusted the shoulder-strap around her and fell to her knees, picking up the box and the bullets that had fallen out of it. Once she rose to her feet, however, her hands gripped the weapon and loaded it with adequate efficiency.

“No way,” Dr. Li interjected and stepped forward again. “Janice can’t fight! She’s not wearing any armor!”

“None of you are,” Charon grumbled, glancing meaningfully at their white lab-coats.

“We weren’t expecting to fight!” Dr. Li insisted coldly. “That’s what _you’re_ here for.”

“I’m not here for you,” he growled and stepped closer to the woman. Charon wasn’t prone to start hitting an unarmed female, but this woman was rubbing him in all the wrong ways.

“Alright,” Leena interrupted and pulled Dr. Li back, safely away from the ghoul’s punching distance. Her dark eyes were hard, but she still spoke softly. “Stay with the others, Madison.” And then she turned to the woman with the rifle. “Janice, was it? If you can give us some covering fire, we would appreciate it. But don’t put yourself in the mutants’ line of fire. Stay here, with the others, and stay in as much cover as you can. You were a hunter, right? That weapon has a long range. Use it to your advantage.”

The woman nodded, hoisting the rifle into a readied position. “I’ll help. I know I can help.”

“Thank you, Janice,” Leena smiled gently.

Charon waived Anja over, having her join them while they planned their movements forward. Her eyes were slightly puffed today, from lack of sleep and bad dreams, but her focus was unquestionable while she joined their debate on how to assault the memorial. Leena had been there once before, and James knew the layout of the place very well.

“It’s actually a funny story,” Leena chuckled nervously in the middle of their conversation. “It was after my first visit here that I decided to hire Charon.”

The others quieted and looked at her questioningly. Charon’s eyes slowly moved over to his employer, curiously watching her strained smile.

“Yeah,” she nodded in response to their gazes. “I was looking for you, dad. And Dr. Li pointed me here. I had already been to Underworld once, and I knew Charon was there. I offered to buy his contract on my first visit, but that snake Ahzrukhal wouldn’t sell it to me for any less than 2000 caps. So, I was here, on my own. You know, being shot at while searching for you.”

“Oh honey,” James choked. He looked genuinely remorseful. “I’m so sorry, about all of this.”

Leena nodded. Her dark eyes were downcast. “It was tough. I eventually opted for stealth. And when I emerged again, I decided to collect the caps I needed to hire Charon.”

“That’s not a funny story, Leena,” Anja said slowly. Charon had half a mind to agree. He didn’t like his employers, but he respected Leena’s resilience and her willpower to do good by the people she met. And no one had helped her out of the goodness of their hearts. Everyone wanted something, demanded something from her in return. Leena rarely demanded anything from the unfortunate souls she met. She helped if she could, when she could, however she could, and that was more than what most people could say.

The Vault kid chuckled and shook the bad memory away, glancing up at Charon. “So, bringing you here is almost like completing a circle, you know?”

Charon didn’t reply. Circles were never completed, because where they ended, they started again. He didn’t like them.

Finalizing their planned approach, the group readied their weapons and moved forward.

Charon kept James close. The man was carrying a pistol, and very little armor aside from the Vault suit he was insistant on using. But just like his daughter, even though his aim was a bit slow, it was very accurate. They were going to take the catwalks and try to reach the entrance to the gift shop from there. It was she shortest way, James had explained.

Glancing behind him, he saw that Anja and Leena were following them close behind, both women ready with their weapons drawn and cocked.

The group of scientists had orders to follow as a safe distance.

They jogged, searching the metal catwalks for signs of movement or ambush while they crossed the large distance from the road and to the memorial. Luckily, they saw none, and stepped into the concrete circle that made up the foundation of the building. Turning sharply, Charon waited for everyone to step onto the catwalk, signaling the women to take the path straight ahead when the catwalk divided into two parallel sections. He and James took the narrow and innermost path to the left, gaining an advantage in spotting enemies before anyone reached the women.

There was no cover whatsoever on the catwalks, and Charon swallowed bitterly while he pulled James to walk behind him. He glanced at the women, watching with conflicted emotions that Anja did the same with Leena.

“Trouble,” Anja called, aiming and firing her Chinese assault rifle. A group of mutants had spotted them.

The green beasts responded with fire, screaming and pushing forward to meet the small group of humans. Charon cursed loudly when he saw that most of the mutants had taken the wider path towards the women, and he quickly fired two shots to stop the approaching mutant that was swinging a piece of wood at him and James.

Assessing the distance to backtrack, his curses intensified. “Cover the girls!” he barked at James, crouching to aim his shotgun in between the metal bars of the railings. James mirrored his movements. He hard Anja’s assault rifle fire in controlled and short bursts, until it suddenly didn’t, and she was firing wildly in a spray that widened more and more the longer she was pulling the trigger.

And then she ran out of bullets.

Charon dared a glimpse in her direction, feeling his blood freeze. A mutant had reached the women. He was riddled in bullet wounds, and he was well armored. His right arm was hanging limply at his side and with his left, he was attempting to use his rifle as a melee weapon instead.

It was a hard thing to do, but Charon had no choice. He forced his attention away from his soulmate and the situation she was in, focusing forward at the approaching mutants. He kept pressing onward in between his shots, stepping further, shooting, sometimes crouching to aim at the mutants on the other pathway, taking another step. Soon enough, he and James were almost at the next connection between the pathways.

One of the women screamed. A sharp and horrifying scream that clutched painfully at his attention. The sound was followed by an echoing _clunk_ from metal, and then a splash of water.

“Leena?” James called, twisting around and aiming his gun. Charon grabbed it out of the man’s hands.

“If you shoot from here, you risk shooting the girls,” he barked, rising to his feet and hurrying around the corner of the railing, heading down the path towards the women. He quickly shouldered his shotgun and pulled his knife out.

His employer was fighting off a mutant. The green beast had grabbed her by the neck and lifted her into the air like a ragdoll. Her feet kicked and she was trying to pry its hand away from her. Charon’s contract sparked into his mind, painfully spurring him to lurch forward and stab his knife upwards as deep into the crook of the mutants’ arm as he could.

It worked. Blood gushed out of the wound when he pulled his knife out, and the mutant lost its grip on Leena. Charon kicked the mutant away from the girl when she slumped to the ground. James ran up to them, a shotgun readied. He fired two shots right into the mutant’s skull.

Charon didn’t bother to ask where James had gotten the shotgun. Several of the mutants had been armed with these weapons. Instead, he assessed his employer’s health, seeing that she was mostly unharmed. Reaching down at her with one hand, he grabbed the front of her clothes and lifted her to stand.

“Where’s Anja?”

Leena shrugged his hand off and stepped over to the railing, peering down into the waters. “The mutant threw her over. I think she hit something on the way down. Look.” She pointed at one of the metal pipes that ran out from under the walkways and into the water. Blood smeared one of the pipes’ side.

Charon searched the waters with his eyes, reaching into the bond. With a relieved exhale, he found her immediately. She was wading out of the water, solid ground under her feet. “You alright?” he asked, looking at the riverbanks, searching for her figure.

 _“Yeah,”_ his soulmate gasped. _“Fuck that was cold!”_

He chuckled. “You know where you are?”

 _“Uhhm,”_ she hesitated, stumbling a little on the rocks and catching herself. Her vision lifted, and she focused on a concrete barrier in front of her. _“I think I’m close to the gift shop. But I can’t get over this ting. Mind giving me a hand?”_ Following the concrete with her eyes, she spotted a way up at the far end, right next to the bridge. _“Oh, never mind. I’m good.”_

Charon knew where she was. Ending the exchange, he spotted the group of scientist approach further down the metal catwalk. The armed woman, Janice, was holding her weapon ready, searching for any potential stragglers.

He grabbed one of the dead mutants’ shotgun and looted its ammo, and then motioned for Leena and James to follow. Together they turned to walk down from the catwalk, towards the gift shop and Anja.

…

 

Anja wasn’t sure she had ever been this cold before. She was a dripping, shivering mess. Her shoes were full of water that sloshed between her toes. And to make matters worse, she’d dropped her beloved Chinese assault rifle in the waters somewhere.

Climbing and clawing her way up the rocks onto the concrete foundation of Jefferson Memorial, she spotted her companions come down from the catwalk. Dr. Li and her scientists followed close behind.

Charon walked over to her, extending a hand to help her climb up the remaining few feet. Anja gratefully accepted his assistance, too cold to manage it on her own. Once he’d helped her up, he released her arm immediately.

“You’re bleeding,” the ghoul commented, looking at her forehead.

Reaching up, she touched her forehead, feeling the sleek moisture that mixed itself into the water dripping from her hair. When she lowered her hand, she looked down at the blood on her fingers. “Right.”

Leena stepped over to them, handing her a stimpak. “Here,” she said, also looking at the wound. “Just to be sure you didn’t knock your brain around too much.”

“Right. Thanks.” 

“You can swim?” Leena asked, smiling while she watched Anja administer the stimpak.

“Of course,” she answered, tossing the used stimpak into her backpack. “What? You think that’s weird?”

“Well, no. I guess that’s a useful skill to have out here.”

Anja watched the Vault girl, seeing her face twist in embarrassment. She narrowed her eyes slightly. “You can’t swim?”

Leena chuckled. “No need for that in the Vault. Nowhere to practice anyhow.”

“I’ll teach you sometime.”

Leena’s face brightened in a wide smile. She was about to reply, but then Dr. Li called for their attention.

The scientists had gathered around the door to the gift shop, waving them over. Dr. Li had a scowl on her face, looking very unhappy about something.

“What?” Leena asked, scowling back at the woman.

“We’re not done yet. There could be more mutants inside, so if you guys are done chatting, it’s time to keep moving.”

Anja heard Leena mutter some angry curses under her breath, even though she was smiling stiffly at the woman while she walked over to the scientists. She didn’t join the Vault girl, but instead looked over to Charon, seeing him scrutinize her with a frown on his forehead.

“What?”

“Where’s your gun?”

“In the water somewhere. Honestly, I don’t fancy another swim.”

His hazy eyes roamed her figure, frown deepening when she suppressed another cold shiver working its way into her. “What happened?”

She shrugged. “Mutants.”

“You lost your focus,” he grumbled. “I heard. You panicked? Ran out of ammo?”

“They were close. And we had nowhere to go. Don’t look at me like that. I’m fine. We’re both fine!”

The ghoul remained quiet, looking at her for several long seconds. She didn’t tell him that she’d been unconscious when she hit the water. It was damn luck that the water had been cold enough to startle her awake. She didn’t want him to know that in her panic, she’d contemplated just bolting off and abandon Leena back there. The important thing was that she hadn’t. She’d stayed, defended the Vault girl, and then ended up in a fist fight with one of the mutants. A fight she’d lost, by the way.

Charon didn’t reply. Instead, he pulled out one of the scavenged shotguns from his back, and handed it to her wordlessly. Anja took the weapon with a nod.

“Thanks.”

“Stay close and within visual,” he grumbled, and then moved to join the Vault kid and the scientists.

Loading the weapon, she followed.

…

 

Anja came to an important self-realization while they cleared out the remaining mutants at Jefferson Memorial. She truly, thoroughly and wholeheartedly _hated_ super mutants.

She hated them more than she’d ever hated ghouls, raiders and slavers. By this point, she knew she would live happily and contently for the rest of her life if she never saw a mutant again.

The air around them reeked of sulfur, stinging her eyes in a way that reminded her of ammoniac. They were just intelligent enough to shout taunting remarks at the humans, but too stupid to fight predictably. And their unpredictability made them even more dangerous. They lacked any kind of finesse or tactics, just sprinting forward, shooting and bashing their way until they were right on top of the humans.

Anja and her companions kept pushing forward, only to be forced to retreat again whenever a mutant rushed towards them. Landmines and frag grenades were out of the question inside the closed spaces of the memorial.

It was a slow fight where the humans gained just a little bit of ground by each mutant that fell. It was intense and exhausting. They had fought their way into the sub-basement of the memorial. All three of them were panting once the final mutant fell. They took a moment to just sit down and catch their breaths in the stairs.

One good thing came from the fight though. Anja wasn’t freezing cold anymore. Her clothes were still damp, and her shoes still sloshed when she walked. But the fight had kept her warm.

Charon had taken shots to his shoulder and thigh. He’d barely acknowledged the wounds during the fight, but now she saw him roll the wounded shoulder stiffly. She could barely feel him anymore, as if the bond opened by their heated exchange in Rived City was dwindling again, now that they weren’t maintaining it physically.

It was odd. She would have liked to ask James about it. The man had failed to say anything about the mental aspects of soulmates, why they could communicate telepathically through senses and emotions. Why did physical proximity enhance that connection, and why did it recede again?

Leena exhaled and rubbed her face, blinking exhaustion out of her eyes. The Vault girl had stopped shaking from the adrenaline, and she rose to her feet. “I’ll go tell dad and Dr. Li that it’s safe to come inside.”

Anja gave her a nod, watching as she climbed the stairs to the gift shop. When the vault girl disappeared from sight, she looked over to Charon again.

“You alright?” she asked tentatively.

He glanced sideways at her, a small frown on his forehead. “Yes.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s fine.”

“Will stimpaks work on you?”

“It’ll heal on its own. Or I’ll find a source of radiation.”

Anja scoffed, moving closer to him on the step they sat on, eyes lingering on the wound in his thigh. “I can see the bullet. Let me help.” While she spoke, she reached out to lay her hand on his thigh, wanting to examine the wound closer.

“No.” The ghoul slapped her hand away and rose from the step so abruptly it startled her. “Don’t.”

“What?” She raised her eyebrows, surprised by his sudden and harsh rejection. “Why not?”

Charon backed several steps down the stairs, away from her, shaking his head. “Don’t touch me.”

At a complete loss of words, she stared at him for several seconds.

Sure, Charon usually kept a certain distance from her, aside from the few occasions where he’d been closer than she was comfortable with. But this outright avoidance was new. He watched her as if he thought she was about to go after him, and he was flexing his fists in accord to his heavy breaths. His entire demeanor was tense.

“I…,” she bit her lip, suddenly feeling self-conscious and embarrassed. “I just wanted to help.”

“I know.” He relaxed his hands and shoulders, exhaling. “But don’t touch me.”

Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, Anja rose from the step, standing. She noticed how he leaned away from her when she did, and somehow, that _hurt_. “Fine,” she bit between clenched teeth. “It’s not like I want to be touching you anyway.”

She didn’t give him time to respond. Turning on her heel, she stomped up the stairs, angrily biting down the disappointment inside her. Whatever it was that suddenly had him so on edge like that, she didn’t care. In fact, she preferred it that way.

Once upstairs, Anja spotted Leena and the scientists enter the gift shop. Intercepting their path, she stomped over to them, scowl firmly in place and voice hard when she spoke to the Vault girl.

“Your _slave_ is bleeding all over the stairs down there. You might want to take care of it.”

She didn’t stop to hear Leena’s response. Instead, she turned her steps to trail alongside the scientists, following them into the rotunda.

_“Anja…”_

“Go fuck yourself!”

He didn’t respond.

…

 

He really didn’t need Leena to order him to stay still while she removed the bullets, but she did it anyway. Her small and soft hands were careful while she worked, and she kept apologizing whenever she tugged a bit hard or had to use force to loosen the bullets from his mangled flesh. She flinched every time he flexed a hand or uttered a sound, and Charon almost laughed at how terrified she looked. As if he was some animal likely to bite her head off at any time.

But then again, it was very possible he gave her every reason to be wary. He was angry. Fucking furious, in fact.

Too much frustration and tension these last couple of months was finally getting to him. Everything that had happened after he came into Leena’s employment was starting to wear him down. All of it.

Life had been terrible and boring and completely without meaning before. But it had been simple.

“There,” his employer cooed, needlessly injecting a stimpak before he had time to stop her. “All done.”

Charon looked down on himself, seeing the wounds slowly close, his already mangled flesh trying to compensate and create new skin to cover the wounds. It would scar, but he was already ugly as shit and it didn’t matter.

Grumbling a half-sincere “thanks”, he pulled his armored leather chest piece back on, and then grabbed his shotgun.

Leena hesitated, gazing up at him with a frown on her smooth forehead. She looked like she wanted to say something, eyes shining with worry and lips slightly parted. Charon’s hand tightened around his shotgun, and he returned her worried gaze with a hardened of his own.

He’d bark her out of his business if he had to. And by the looks of her, she’d let him do that. Leena was carful with how she handled him, and she had yet to try and assert herself as an employer he needed to be afraid of.

Granted, he could bite a lot harder than he barked, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t scare the crap out of her if he tried.

Obviously, Leena was somehow coming to the same conclusion, because she finally exhaled and lowered her gaze. “Let’s go join the others.”

Charon gave her a nod and followed wordlessly after her up the stairs.

…

 

 _“Alright, the fuses are installed. Now what?”_ Leena’s metallic voice said over the intercom system. She sounded slightly out of breath.

James looked at the display in front of him, nodding when several small lamps flicked to life. “Good work, honey. With the fuses in place, you should be able to access the mainframe. There’s no need to come back up to the control room. Just head straight there.”

_“Okay. The big door, right?”_

“That’s right. You should see a green light next to it, indicating that it’s unlocked now.”

They heard the intercom on Leena’s side buzz as she shut it off, and James crossed his arms, leaning back on one of the consoles in the room. He had a concentrated look on his face.

Anja crossed her arm and legs, standing with her back against the wall just outside the control room, watching the scientists. They were already working, but on what, she had no idea. Even though James had walked them through the entire control room, explaining everything and what purpose the different devices had, most terminals were shut off, and just a few consoles and displays were operational. But still, they walked around, looking down into their clipboards and scribbling notes.

Janice was in the control room with James, trying to replace some broken wires of one of the broken consoles and a terminal James had said they might need. Dr. Li was standing just outside the room, right next to Anja, working on the console there. The stern woman had a frown on her forehead, and she wasn’t looking very happy.

She had no idea where Charon was at the moment, and honestly; she didn’t care. Most likely, he was down in the basement with Leena.

The intercom buzzed again. _“At the control room. I have access,”_ Leena’s voice declared, sounding even more breathless now. Anja pictured that she’d been running down there, eager to get this over with as quickly as possible.

James pressed the button to the intercom in the control room, eyes looking down at the display in front of him. “The power switch to the mainframe is right next to the big screen you see there. Just turn it on, and it should reboot automatically.”

Suddenly, it was as if the facility hummed to life. Lights began to flicker all around them, and several consoles buzzed to life, some of them sparking and some of them crackling as the electricity found its way inside.

“Ouch!” Janice dropped the wires she’d been holding, shaking her hands frantically. “Shit. How about a warning, huh? I almost got electrocuted.”

James glanced at her with a humorous gaze. “What did you expect? Power to the mainframe means electricity.”

A second later, the entire control room filled with a thick and vibrating sound that was faint and still very much there. Air gushed out of the ventilation shafts, slowly replacing the stale and damp air in the rotunda. Several water pumps began working, and soon enough the sound of flowing water filled the rotunda. A few small pipes began to leak, the water dripping down and back into the basin below the catwalk.

To her right, Anja saw that several lights inside the water tank had turned on. There was something in there, and she twisted her head slightly to look, startled to realize it was the statue of Thomas Jefferson himself. It wasn’t a water tank, she realized. It was the purifier that had been built around the statue.

“Great, you’ve done it,” James praised into the intercom with a smile. “It’ll just be a few minutes until we can access the mainframe.”

 _“Sweet,”_ Leena replied. _“Now what?”_

James gazed around at the consoles surrounding him, frowning. “There are a few minor repairs to be made up here in the control room. Why don’t you come back here and give us a hand?”

 _“Sure. We’ll be right there.”_ The intercom buzzed when she turned it off.

Anja swallowed hard, trying to suppress the foul taste in her mouth.

“Uh, James?” Janice called, voice hesitant. She was watching the console next to her. “There’s something blocking one of the intake pipes.”

James’s already concentrated frown deepened. He stepped over to Janice, also looking down at the console that had just powered to life. Nodding, he went back to the intercom and quickly pressed the button again. “Honey?” He sounded alarmed.

Several seconds went by until Leena’s end of the intercom also buzzed, her voice flowing out of the speaker. _“What’s wrong?”_

“There’s a blockage in one of the intake pipes. Head back to the museum level and give me a call on the intercom once you get there.”

_“I’m already here.”_

“Oh, good. You should find an access point to the pipes at the end of the entrance hallway. I need you to drain the pipes in order to clear the blockage.”

Leena was silent a few seconds, and then she chuckled nervously into the intercom. _“I won’t drown, will I?”_

“No way, honey. The pipes are deactivated, and we won’t reactivate them until you’ve cleared out of it.”

_“Wait. You can control them from there? Why don’t you just drain them from there as well?”_

“The blockage is preventing us from accessing the mechanism that controls the intake. You’ll have to manually drain it. There should be a control lever of some kind down there.”

Leena’s voice sighed. _“Alright. I’ll go.”_

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

Anja was still standing there, silently watching the scientists, when one of the doors to the rotunda opened and closed. Glancing towards it, she saw Charon climb the stairs slowly.

Glaring at the ghoul, she was unable to hold back her snarky remark. “What, you couldn’t fit inside the pipes?”

“No.” He didn’t even try to dismiss her, or explain, or deny that what she said was true. Once he reached the top of the stairs, his eyes roamed over the scientists and the interior of the control room, and then he settled to lean on the wall next to her.

Biting the inside of her cheek, fighting down more remarks, Anja looked away from him.

“Still mad?” he asked quietly.

“Fuck off.”

Anja didn’t even know why he bothered to ask. If he cared how she felt, all he needed to do was reach through the bond and feel her. She was halfway tempted to try and force her angry feelings onto him, like she had experimented with right after they’d met. But that would mean letting him feel everything, and she didn’t want that. After all, she had very little control over the bond and its mechanisms, and she had no idea how to filter her emotions into it.

Instead, she opted to ignore him.

One of the doors to the rotunda slammed open, and a male scientist barged inside, panting hard. “Enclave!”

Anja saw in her peripheral vision that Charon uncrossed his arms, tensing.

“What?” James stepped out of the control room. “They’re here?”

“Right outside. I saw several of their vertibirds!”

As if cue, Leena’s voice called through the intercom, sounding panicked. _“Dad!”_

James paled and stepped over to it. “Honey. We have visitors.”

_“I see them. What do I do?”_

“Stay hidden, honey. Don’t come up here, you hear me? Stay out of sight.”

_“Dad? No.”_

“This isn’t a discussion. Do as I say, now!” He cut the intercom off, turning around to look at the people around him. “Alright, people. Stay calm. We don’t know what they want. Please, everyone, remain in your assigned areas while we get this sorted out-”

James was unable to finish his sentence when a large ghoul grabbed his shirt, pushing him backwards until he was bending over the console behind him. Anja blinked, feeling just as surprised as the man was. She hadn’t seen Charon move from his spot.

“Where will she emerge from the pipes?” the ghoul asked, speaking slowly and firmly.

James swallowed and shook his head. “She won’t. Didn’t you hear me? I told her to stay.”

The ghoul grabbed him harder. “You don’t know your daughter very well. _Where_ will she come out of the pipes?”

“S-sub-basement level. The room just to the right from the stairs.” James stuttered, and immediately found himself released from the ghoul’s grip.

Anja was watching with her mouth halfway open, staring at the ghoul when he exited the control room, unshouldering and loading his shotgun while he walked. His hazy grey eyes met hers, and he frowned.

“Stay here,” he ordered, hurrying down the stairs.

“You’re joking, right?” Undeterred by his hard voice and stern face, Anja also unshouldered her weapon and followed.

The ghoul turned, grabbed her hard and pushed her away from him, back up the stairs. “No. Stay here.”

Anja stumbled and fell on the steps, landing on her ass. Charon glared hard at her. They could already hear the Enclave soldiers as they barged through the museum level just outside the door. Taking a small step towards her, he spoke to her again, calmer, but not any less commanding or intimidating.

“Stay here, or so help me, I _will_ chain you to this railing.” Lifting his gaze to look over her head, he talked to someone there. “Make sure she stays.”

“I will. Keep Leena safe,” James responded.

Watching Charon march off and disappear out the door opposite of the one the visitors approached, Anja felt someone grab her shoulders, helping her up from the floor. She shook the hands off her once she’d found her balance.

“Easy there,” James said. “He’s just worried about you.”

“The hell he is,” she yelled, angrily pushing James further away from her. “The Enclave wants into _this_ room. They couldn’t care less about Leena.”

“We don’t know what they want,” James warned, and then flinched, startled when there was a loud crash from the door.

Several power armored Enclave soldiers marched through the door, plasma rifles and laser guns aimed at the people inside. Just now did Anja notice that most of the scientists had disappeared off to somewhere. The only ones left in the rotunda were James, Dr. Li, Janice, and herself.

She backed up the stairs when the soldiers approached, still clutching the shotgun in her hands. One soldier aimed his plasma rife at her, his eyes were cat-like white slits in his helmet. He walked right up to her, backing her into the corner next to the console, talking through the metallic speaker in his helmet. “Drop your weapon civilian.”

“Fuck you,” Anja snarled, hearing the plasma rifle’s sparking hum as he pressed it into her chest. The gun was warm.

“It’s not a request, civilian.”

 _“Do as he say, Anja,”_ Charon grumbled inside her head. He sounded strained.

Dropping the shotgun, Anja raised her hands, hearing it clang against the metal catwalk. She glared at the soldier, and he wasn’t moving away from her.

“Civilian neutralized,” the soldier stated loudly to his companions.

Moving her gaze, she saw that another soldier had Dr. Li at gunpoint as well. And another one was backing James and Janice into the control room, moving his aim between them steadily.

“Very good.” A man walked up the stairs, slowly with his hands linked on his back and his chin raised proudly. He carried himself with an air of importance and authority. The man was in his 50‘s somewhere, blond hair perfectly groomed and graying at the temples. His eyes had a color that was startlingly similar Anja’s earthly green ones.

Once he reached the top of the stairs, he glanced around, and a look of displeasure crossed his features.

“Now this cannot be all of them. Go find the others. I am sure they are here somewhere.” His accent was thick, revealing that he was not a native to the Capital Wasteland.

A handful of soldiers immediately marched off, including the one who had held Dr. Li at gunpoint. The one in front of Anja kicked her weapon away, making it fall from the catwalk and land in the water with a splash. Backing away from her slowly, he turned slightly so that he had both Anja and Dr. Li within his sight.

“By the order of the President, this facility is now under United States government control,” the man declared loudly, straightening his back. “The person in charge here is to step forward immediately and turn over all materials related to this project.”

“That’s quite impossible,” James said calmly, hands raised in the air. “This is a private project; the Enclave has no authority here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave at once.”

The important-looking man turned his attention to James, a cold expression on his face. “Am I to assume, sir, that you are in charge?”

“Yes,” James confirmed, giving Anja and Dr. Li quick glances. “I’m responsible for this project.” He very gently, still with his hands raised, backed further into the control room.

The Enclave commander’s face revealed nothing, but he gave Anja and Dr. Li a swift and evaluative look, and then raised his hand. Gently and with a few movements of his fingers, he signaled for the soldier in front of Anja to follow him. Then he stepped inside the control room, the soldier right beside him, now aiming at James and Janice instead.

The moment the Enclave commander and his soldier had stepped inside the control room, James quickly pressed a button, and the emergency bulkhead door closed. The Enclave commander merely glanced behind him at the closed door, not once revealing any sign of worry.

“No,” Dr. Li yelled, pounding on the glass. “James!”

James ignored her, looking right at the commander instead.

The commander straightened his back. “I repeat, sir, that you are hereby instructed to hand over all materials related to the purifier.”

Anja turned her head slightly, hearing gunfire from outside the rotunda, coming closer to the door.

“I’m sorry,” James said. “But that’s…”

A crash by the door interrupted him, and Leena burst though it, running up the stairs. Her normally dark features were white with worry, her unruly ponytail loose, black waves falling wildly around her shoulders.

Charon followed behind Leena, walking distinctively calmer, but not any slower. He took three steps at a time to reach the top of the stairs.

“Dad?” Leena stopped in front of the bulkhead door, watching the people inside with concern.

James merely glanced at his daughter, his masked and impassive expression faltering just for a fraction of a second. The Enclave commander saw it, Anja was sure he did, because the man turned and gave Leena a calculating look that made even Anja cold to the bones.

“Furthermore,” the Enclave commander said, looking at James again and linking his hands behind his back. “You are to assist the Enclave scientists in assuming control of the administration and operation of this facility at once.”

“Colonel…” James said, eyeing the man’s uniform. “Is it Colonel? I’m sorry but this facility is not operational. It never has been. I’m afraid you’re wasting your time here.”

“Sir,” the Colonel said with a calm politeness that could only be described as ominous. “This is the last time I am going to repeat myself. Stand down at once, and turn over control of this facility.”

“Colonel, I assure you that this facility will not function. We have never been able to successfully replicate test results…” Before James had time to finish his sentence, the Colonel had retrieved a laser gun from his hip and aimed it at Janice.

In just a second, Janice had time to understand that she was going to die. Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened slightly. And then the Colonel pulled the trigger. A strange sound escaped the woman as she fell, a garbled sound of denial and pain. But she was dead before her body hit the floor.

Anja involuntarily flinched by the sound of the woman’s dead body hitting the floor.

“No!” Dr. Li yelled, banging at the glass wall, crying. “Janice!”

James’s face twisted in horrified shock, looking at the dead woman.

The Colonel tucked his gun away again, speaking slowly and calmly. “I suggest you comply immediately, sir, in order to prevent any more incidents.” Turning to look over his shoulders, his green eyes fell on Leena for just a second, and then he turned back to James. “Are we clear?”

“Yes, Colonel,” James replied, teeth slightly clenched. “I’ll do whatever you want; there’s no need for more violence.”

“Then you will immediately hand over all materials related to this project, and aid us in making it operational at once.”

“Very well. Give me a few moments to bring the system online.” Turning around to the console behind him, James began tapping the keys. He took his time, tapping several keys, pausing, and then tapping again.

“I grow tired of waiting,” the Colonel said patiently.

“It’ll only be a few more moments,” James assured, tapping a few more keys, and then straitening from the console.

A loud explosion inside the control chamber shook the entire rotunda, causing Anja to yelp and stumble, catching her balance on one of the railings. Leena fell over, landing on the catwalk floor right in front of the bulkhead door. To her side, Anja saw Dr. Li stumble and fall as well, and Charon steadied himself against a wall.

Immediately, an alarm began blaring somewhere.

Inside the control chamber, she saw the Enclave soldiers and the Colonel grasp at their chests, gasping and stuttering as they, too, stumbled. The solders went down heavily, their power armors clanging loudly against the metal floor when they fell. The Colonel cursed and quickly injected a needle into his stomach before he fell to his knees, and then slumped over.

James was still standing, bracing himself on the console. He looked out the glass door, watching Leena scramble on the floor. Stumbling, he moved forward, knees buckling by every step he took, stepping over the Colonel’s limp body. His face was twisted in pain and fear, and he placed his palm on the glass surface of the door, trying to hold himself upright, looking pleadingly out at Leena.

“Run,” he groaned. “RUN!”

“Dad, no! Dad!” The Vault girl screamed, banged on the door, watching her father struggle to keep himself standing. She yelled and cursed, tears running down her cheeks in a wild stream.

When James’ knees finally gave in, his eyes were already rolling to the back of his skull. He fell hard, limp, chest struggling to take one final breath. And then he was dead.

“Noooo, dad!” Leena kneeled in front of the glass, pounding it heavily, screaming and crying and completely out of breath.

“We need to get out of here!” a female voice yelled, catching Anja and Charon’s attention. It was Dr. Li, clutching the stairs’ railing, breathing hard and looking with teary eyes in at James’ limp body. “They’ll be coming for us next. We have to evacuate, now!”

Anja blinked, waking from her shock. She hurried over to Leena, catching her shoulders between her hands, grabbing them hard as she hauled the girl to her feet. “We need to go,” she murmured, loud enough to be heard over the blaring alarm.

Leena resisted, still crying and staring wild-eyed her dead father.

Anja grabbed her harder and pulled her away from the bulkhead door. “Come on, girl. We need to go.”

“No!” the Vault girl refused, falling to her knees again. “That’s my father!”

“I know,” Anja murmured, swallowing her frustration and sympathetic tears. Leena was breaking apart, and it was painful to watch. But she needed her to move, to listen. “Leena!” she finally barked, shaking the girl’s shoulders. “Your father didn’t want you to die here. Now let’s go!”

Charon stepped over to them, bending his knees and catching one of Leena’s arms, throwing it over his shoulder. He glanced at Anja, and she did the same with Leena’s other arm. Together, they managed to lift the heartbroken girl onto her feet, and then began hauling her with them, following behind Dr. Li as she showed the way.

“There’s an old tunnel that will lead us out of here, to someplace safe. We used it an evacuation route once before, but that was a long time ago,” the woman explained as she led them out to the museum area. “We don’t have time to look for the others. I hope everyone remembers how to get there.”

Rounding a corner, the woman kicked away some debris and pushed a metal barrel out of the way, revealing a manhole in the floor. Charon released Leena’s arm to help the woman lift the metal cover.

Anja held tightly onto the still sobbing Leena, feeling her unwillingness to move as heavy as deadweight. “Come on honey,” she hummed quietly. “Don’t quit on us now. We still need you, remember?”

Once the manhole’s cover was lifted away, Charon returned, taking hold of Leena entirely. “Get going,” he grumbled, tilting his head towards the hole Dr. Li was about to disappear into.

Bracing herself, Anja took a steadying breath, and climbed into the hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for retelling of the scene I’m certain you’ve all played through many times already.  
> Also, am I the only one who thinks its odd that the Lone Wanderer can swim? I mean, they grew up in a Vault, right? 
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading! Remember to drop kudos and comments if you like where this is going, or if you have some thoughts about what I could do differently.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a short chapter. Sorry about that.

**Underground Nightmares**

 

He wasn’t sure how long they waited down in the tunnel for the other scientists to show up. It was long enough for his employer to stop crying, but not long enough for his soulmate to stop being angry.

The other scientists eventually joined them, one by one. They were all scared and confused, and Dr. Li had to tell them what had happened in the rotunda. She repeated the story, down to every detail, to each and every one that joined them down in the tunnel.

Charon had taken to pacing back and forth a little away from the others, peering further into the tunnel every now and then. He smelled ghouls down there. Many ghouls. And he could hear faint sounds of armored boots echo off the narrowly rounded walls.

The threat was still far away, but it was there.

His employer sat huddled on the ground, leaning against the tunnel wall, wearing a glassy expression. He wondered if she was going to be a problem.

His soulmate sat next to Leena, also staring at some invisible spot in front of her. But she was wearing an angry scowl, and she was plucking mindlessly at the skin around the nail on one of her thumbs. She didn’t even notice when it started to bleed. He wondered if she was going to be a problem as well.

Dr. Li had allowed herself to cry a little, grieving the loss of a good friend. If Leena was right, she was also grieving a lover. The woman was tough however, and the momentary weakness was brief. She collected herself soon enough, and she stood with a straight back, and she retold the events with a firm voice.

Charon didn’t like her at all, but at that moment, he wished she was a fighter. Because she was _not_ going to be a problem. She wanted them all out of there, and that was something Charon for once found himself wholeheartedly agree with.

“Charon?”

He stopped pacing, looking towards the women sitting on the ground. Leena was looking back at him with big and dark eyes.

“What?”

“Do you have some liquor?” Her voice was thin, pleading almost.

Narrowing his eyes at her, he measured her from head to toe, idly assessing her weight and contemplating if he should knock her out and simply carry her out of there. He’d gladly do that. But he had no idea how far they had to travel and how many enemies they would face. Grinding his teeth, he turned to pace again. “No.”

The manhole cover far above them made a grinding loud noise when someone pushed it aside. He spun around, shotgun cocked, watching as a man began to descend the ladder into the tunnel.

“Relax,” Dr. Li said, glancing over to him. “It’s just Garza.”

Lowering his weapon, Charon counted the people. “Everyone’s here.”

“Yes. We should be ready to move on in just a few minutes,” Dr. Li agreed, reaching out to give the man Garza a hug when he stepped off the ladder.

Anja had overheard them, and she rose to stand, pulling Leena up with her. The women exchanged a few words, and he saw Anja give Leena’s shoulder a light squeeze, nodding insistently while she spoke. Leena nodded back and took several deep breaths.

Once the women were ready, they moved towards him.

“Don’t wander off. We’re going to need you.” Dr. Li’s voice was firm and commanding, stopping the women in their tracks.

Leena turned with a steely expression. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. We need you right now. The three of you are the only ones with any amount of combat experience. We got the Enclave behind us and who-knows-what ahead of us.”

Something in Leena’s face twisted; a slight twitch around her eyes. Charging towards Dr. Li, her fist ready, she punched the woman hard in the face.

“The Enclave, huh? The Enclave?! You trying to tell me that I don’t know we got the fucking Enclave right on our heels? MY FATHER IS DEAD BECAUSE OF THEM!”

Charon had to give it to the snobbish doctor, she could take a punch. Dr. Li merely rubbed her jaw, an angry scowl on her face. “You’re hurt and grieving. I understand that. But if we’re going to make it through here, we need your help.”

His employer deflated in an exhale, the rage practically draining out of her while she looked past Dr. Li to the other scientists. She shook her head, mostly to herself or possibly responding to something inside her head, and then sighed. Her dark eyes moved back to Dr. Li. “Stay together and stay behind us. At any sign of danger, you get into cover.”

Dr. Li gave the girl an affirmative nod, and Leena turned back to Charon and Anja.

“Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

…

 

They moved fast, swiftly and efficiently with a single-minded purpose; get out of there alive. Charon disposed of a few ferals that caught their scent, and he shot down and silenced an Enclave propaganda eyebot as well.

They followed Dr. Li’s instructions at an intersection, and then headed into a utility tunnel. At the end of the tunnel, more feral ghouls waited, charging at them with hoarse and mad growls.

The tunnels were dark and damp, and more than once, the women slipped or stumbled on the uneven tunnel floor. Charon reflexively reached out one time when Anja slipped, catching her arm to prevent her falling. She immediately reeled and wrenched herself out of his grasp.

“Don’t touch me.”

He jerked his hand back as if she’d burned him.

They shot more ghouls, quickly clearing out every area, making it safe for the scientists to follow. For some time, their journey looked like it was going in their favor.

When they reached a large and locked utility door with a terminal, Dr. Li hurried forward, assuring them she could unlock the door. Charon took position next to a smaller open doorway leading into a large room, glancing up at the metal catwalks high up on the wall, on the floor above. The room had several large tanks and pipes in it, and further past the catwalks, he saw the upper floor extend into a larger, unknown area.

Leena wordlessly took position against the wall on the opposite side of the door.

“Perfect for ambush,” he grumbled, tilting his head up at the catwalks.

“Yeah,” she agreed, narrowing her eyes as she glanced up at the catwalks. “There’s corridors there.”

“And something on the floor up there, beyond the catwalks.”

Leena suddenly twisted back into cover. “I see movement.”

Adjusting his hat, he moved his head slightly out of cover, looking up at the catwalks, also seeing and hearing movement. He frowned. “Enclave.”

“Everyone; get into cover. Any progress on that computer, Madison?”

“Just a few more minutes,” the woman responded, fingers punching the keys furiously.

Charon dared another look, assessing the distance, cursing slightly under his breath. His shotgun was powerful, but it didn’t have the required range. “Anja,” he grumbled, waiving her over.

His soulmate looked non-too-happy about being ordered around, but Charon ignored her nasty scowl and pulled her up to his side of the doorframe. “Enclave. Think you can take them out?”

She took a quick peek, and unholstered her 100mm gun. “This little thing won’t do much against their armors.”

“They haven’t seen us yet,” Leena interjected, voice hushed as she dared another glance. “Maybe if we stay-”

A hoarse and lengthy growl cut her off, and everyone’s heads turned to the sound. A lone ghoul had wandered up behind them, taking the hidden scientists by surprise. The scientists yelled and dashed out of their cover, panicking as the ghoul shrieked and bolted after them. The creature had difficulties making its mind up about its prey though. Behaving erratically, it just ran around a little, obviously confused. Charon noticed it was a weak ghoul, old, by the looks of it. Starved and hunched too far over, it was missing several fingers and almost all its toes. It had very few teeth left, the skin on its face was completely rotten off in several patches, showing the yellowed structure of its skull underneath. Its eyes where completely white.

It was blind, and it was already dying for real.

“Quiet!” he barked, catching everyone’s attention, including the ghoul’s. “Stay still,” he added softer, watching as the ghoul stopped charging, turning its head from side to side.

Unfortunately, the Enclave soldiers in the large room had heard the commotion, and before Charon had time to give any further orders, red hot laser beams were shooting fiercely through the door. The lone ghoul hunched down and hissed angrily, and then ran towards the sounds coming from the room. Charon felt something akin to pitied contentment clutch at his chest, watching the ghoul mindlessly dash through the doorway, and then disintegrate into a pile of ash seconds later.

Anja was already peering out of the doorway, pulling the trigger of her 10mm pistol fiercely. When she hunched to a crouch and returned into cover to reload, Charon leaned out and started shooting over her head. At this point, it didn’t matter that their guns were inadequate. Now they were just keeping enough pressure on the Enclave soldiers to buy some time.

“Madison!” Leena yelled impatiently over the gunfight, also leaning out to fire a few shots.

“I’m doing what I can!” the doctor yelled back, angrily cursing and blinking to concentrate on the computer.

Leaning back into cover, Charon quickly reloaded the drum magazine in his shotgun, watching Anja lean out from her hunched position next to his legs. She was doing a good job, even though her gun was too weak. He hard her bullets _cling_ and ricochet off the Enclave soldiers’ metal armors by almost every shot she fired.

More Enclave soldiers came though, and soon enough, the red hail of laser beams shooting through the door was impossible to dodge. There was no way they’d be able to win this fight at this distance.

“Got it,” Dr. Li yelled triumphantly, and the utility door at the end of the tunnel screeched as it opened.

Everyone hurried through the door. Charon waited, pushing Anja into a run, and looking over at Leena. She was stuck on the wrong side of the door, and she was bound to be shot if she tried to run past it. He motioned her to wait, placing his palm in the air, seeing her nod wide-eyed at him that she understood. Holstering her gun, she readied herself, standing on her toes.

Once there was no returning fire, the Enclave soldiers eventually stopped shooting. The very second Charon understood that the soldiers had stopped, his hand shot out across the door’s opening, grabbing Leena and quickly pulling her across to his side.

The red beams of fire returned just before Leena was safely across. She yelped, falling limply into his arms, groaning. With no time to lose, Charon unceremoniously threw her over his shoulder and ran to catch up with the rest of the group.

While he ran, he quickly punched the red and large button to close the large utility door behind him.

More trouble awaited on the other side of the door. Charon could smell them before he heard them and the gunfire. More ghouls. Many of them. The scientists had huddled down next to some fallen debris, and Charon laid his employer down next to them, looking at the people.

“Where’s Anja?”

They didn’t have to respond. The next second, he heard the gunshots of a 10mm coming from further down the tunnel, accompanied with the angry and vicious hissing from several ghouls. Glancing down at his employer, he saw the black and burned marks in her leather armor on several spots around her hip and down her thigh. Checking the wounds, he saw that they had burned through the leather, and her skin. He cursed, quickly searching both hers and his own backpack for stimpaks. Wounds from energy weapons would keep burning inside the body, the heat having nowhere else to go. The pain would eventually grow unbearable, and she’d go into shock, and then she’d die.

He worked fast, his contract and order to protect the employer and keep them alive tugging at his mind with painful blows. Unable to find any stimpaks, he growled, almost wincing at the pain. Leena was still awake, but breathing hard and whimpering, clutching around her thigh, as if she could pry the pain away.

Grabbing the closest scientist, a man, Charon pulled him right up to his face. “I need stimpaks.”

The terrified man shook his head. Charon saw that it was the man Dr. Li had called Garza. The one who had been the last to join them down in the tunnels. With a frustrated sound, he threw the man back and away.

“Hey!” Dr. Li interjected angrily. “Stop that. We don’t have any stimpaks.”

The man Garza was panting hard as well, grasping at his chest, eyes wide with panic. Heart attack.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect. Two dying people, and no stimpaks.

He bit his teeth, closing his eyes hard at the rapidly increasing and thundering pain in his head. He couldn’t leave his employer when she was dying, and he couldn’t help her unless he got Anja’s attention somehow. If he remembered correctly, she had a few stimpaks on her.

At the state he was in, however, he wouldn’t be able to control what he sent through to her, like he normally would. Every instinct within him as her soulmate roared at him not to do this to her, but right now he was at a loss of options, and the contract was firmly in place and shutting out all other concerns.

Reaching out through their bond, he made connection with her, flexing his hands in protest when his pain immediately leaked into her and caused her to stagger.

…

 

Anja had seen that Charon was waiting for Leena, and she’d heard the feral ghouls ahead. Without hesitation, she’d loaded her gun and jogged as silently she could forward.

They were many, and one of them had spotted her immediately.

She held them off as best she could, aiming at their legs to cripple their limbs, effectively preventing them from reaching the scientists. One of the ghouls jumped her from behind, and she spun around to shake it off before it had time to sink its teeth into her.

Then suddenly she felt Charon reach for her mind, and she staggered with a shriek.

The pain was intense and devastating, pounding into the back of her head like a jackhammer on concrete. Dropping her weapon, her hands instinctively flew to her head, clutching at the pain hard. A strangled scream escaped her, but she wasn’t sure if it was even loud. All she could hear, and feel, was that intense head-splitting pain, and how it was shutting down everything else. Her vision blurred, flashing and reddening at the edges, rendering the world in a bloodied color.

Falling backwards, she squirmed to get away from it, panicking and kicking wildly when she realized that one of the ghouls was climbing on top of her feet.

Somewhere inside the pain, Charon was saying something. His voice was strained and rough like gravel, commanding her to pay attention.

“S-stop!” she managed to scream in between her panicked breaths.

 _“Get back here!”_ he bellowed in return, finally loud enough for her to hear. He said something more, but Anja couldn’t hear what it was.

Panting, she tried, and failed, to stand. She kicked harder at the ghoul chewing on her leg, not even feeling the pain, even though she saw that it had managed to rip open her pants and tried to chew off a good mouthful from her. Falling back down, another frightened scream worked its way out of her. It was loud this time, for certain, and it probably alerted even more ghouls to her presence.

 _“Get over here!”_ Charon repeated, sounding angry and rushed. _“NOW!”_

“I c…” Anja wasn’t even aware that she was crying until she felt the moisture on her face and realized that it wasn’t blood. “I can’t! Stop this!”

 _“Just get back here,”_ he ordered again, and then finally ended the exchange.

Once the pain was gone, Anja scurried away from the ghouls surrounding her, panting and blinking the blurriness out of her eyes. She spotted her discarded gun on the ground, in between their legs, far out of her reach. Turning to crawl away from them, she scrambled onto her feet, and then stumbled into a frantic run.

Her feet gained momentum, and she ran as fast as she could, rounding a corner in the tunnel so sharply that she lost her balance and crashed loudly into a pile of ancient junk and rubble. The ghouls were hot on her heels, and she scrambled back up, spotting the pile of rubble up the slope in the tunnel she knew that the scientists were hiding behind. And slightly above them, a large ghoul towered. But his frame was hunched, worn down by the excruciating pain she knew he was in. The fact that he was even standing at all was astonishing.

Still panicking, Anja was halfway crawling and halfway running up the slope. Charon stepped out from the cover to catch her from running right past them, grabbing onto her just as she was near enough, spinning by her momentum and then slowing her to a stop.

He pulled her down, kneeling with her firmly caught in his arms, her back to his chest and his arms tight around her torso. “Calm,” he grumbled into her ear. “Breathe.” His voice was strained and tense, and his arms held her just a little too tight. He suppressed a grunt of pain while he held her, shifting his position a little.

It was when he shifted his position that Anja saw Leena lying on the ground next to him. The girl’s face was pale and damp with sweat, her chest rising and sinking erratically.

“Got any stimpaks on you?” the ghoul grumbled into her ear.

Anja nodded, and Charon gave her torso a tighter hug, before he released her.

She unclasped her backpack and quickly crawled over to Leena, understanding why Charon had reached out for her. While she rummaged into her backpack, she saw Charon grab his shotgun and step out from the cover to face the ghouls that had chased her.

Leena’s eyes were closed, and she was breathing with great difficulties. Anja opened the girl’s jacket to check for more wounds. Her hand grazed something lying on the inside of her shirt. Before she even realized what she was doing, she pulled it out and looked down at it.

It was a rolled-up piece of paper. Old, by the worn and slightly fragile feel of it. It felt like her heart stopped for just a second when she gently unrolled it, squinting to read the faded words. The letters were meticulous and artistic, written on the paper a long time ago. When she managed to read what the words said, she paled, eyes widening as her gaze slowly moved from the paper and onto the dying girl’s face.

She sat there for several seconds, faintly hearing Caron’s sharp gunshots rip through the screaming ghouls, watching as Leena struggled to breathe. It was as if time slowed while she sat there, realizing what she had in her hand, and what was about to happen. Closing her eyes, she inhaled slowly, counting her own heartbeats.

All she needed to do… was nothing.

Then she exhaled, equally slow, and opened her eyes with a decisive frown. Without giving herself time to regret it, she rolled up the paper sheet again, tucking it back into Leena’s shirt, and then closed her leather jacket firmly.

Gaze moving down the girl’s body, she quickly unclasped her belt, pulling her pants down to get better access to the wounds on her hip and thigh. She readied a stimpak, just about to inject it when a small hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

Dr. Li was looking at Anja with a worried frown. “How many do you have?”

“Five.”

“Garza here has a heart condition. He won’t make it without at least a few.” The doctor motioned to a dark-skinned man that was oddly pale and clutching at his heart with deep and fearful gasps.

Anja frowned and jerked her hand out of the woman’s grasp. “Leena won’t make it unless he gets _all_ of these.” She gave Dr. Li a hard expression, and proceeded to inject the stimpak firmly, pushing the fluid into the girl’s hip as close to the wound as possible.

Dr. Li exhaled and leaned back, looking over at her scientist friend with sad and apologetic eyes.

Anja ignored them, injecting Leena with all five of her stimpaks, seeing the burned wounds slowly begin to heal. The heat in the wounds was pushed out, evaporating into the air. She was still unconscious, but her breaths grew less and less labored, and the color slowly returned to her cheeks.

Lying down next to her, Anja placed her hand on top of the girl’s chest, feeling her breaths and her heartbeats, and Charon’s contract right underneath her clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I love kudos and comments, as always :)


	18. Chapter 18

**The Citadel**

 

“Well damn,” Anja muttered dryly next to him, watching the large metallic gate of the Citadel rumble as it opened. “If I had known that yelling would get me in there, I’d have tried that a long time ago.”

Dr. Li scoffed. “Lyons and I go way back.”

The Brotherhood Paladin who had first refused them entrance to the Citadel begrudgingly stepped aside and allowed them passage. Dr. Li completely ignored the Paladin as she stepped through the gate, and even though Charon despised the woman, he took a moment to appreciate just how resourceful she turned out to be.

Everyone was exhausted, himself included. It was early in the morning when they emerged from the tunnels, and they had fought hard to survive the trials down there. His employer was still pale and limping slightly, but her wounds were healing and would be fine in just a few days. Although the scientists hadn’t been helpful in fighting the many feral ghouls and Enclave soldiers, they all had dark circles under their bloodshot eyes and looked like they could collapse at any moment.

Garza, the scientist with the heart condition, had died down there. Or at least everyone hoped he had. They’d been forced to leave him behind when a hoard of feral ghouls had chased after them. Dr. Li didn’t say it, but everyone knew it; she blamed Charon for his death.

Charon couldn’t care less what the woman thought of him and his priories. He’d made the decision no one else wanted to make and pushed forward when the man collapsed. Dr. Li had tried to convince him to carry the man, but he’d had his hands full supporting Leena. And Leena had been half unconscious and unable to give coherent commands.

His gaze wandered towards the small figure of his soulmate. Anja hadn’t spoken to him after he had been forced to request her assistance in keeping Leena alive. There just hadn’t been time for any conversation beyond sharp commands. He had a suspicion she was still angry with him, and now even more so, but for the moment too exhausted to nurture it with any passion.

She was pale and dirty, sporting several bruises and scratches all over her exposed flesh. He’d noticed a slight limp in her strides earlier that had quickly grown more noticeable as they fought. Now, out in daylight, he caught a glimpse of the ruined fabric of her pants, and the bloodied skin of her calf underneath it.

Walking behind the entire group as they entered the Citadel, his eyes adjusted to scan the large courtyard they came into. This Brotherhood stronghold was built into the lower levels of what had once been the United States Department of Defense. Even though mostly ruined, it was still impenetrable like a fortress. Everywhere he looked, Brotherhood men and women were shooting, training and sparring. Some of them wore power armors, but not all.

Something uncomfortable moved inside of him when he looked around. Something edging at his mind, prompting a memory he no longer had.

He knew this place. He had been here before, a long time ago. The memory was gone, wiped from his mind, but the feelings it stirred within him was still there. Mixed, conflicting feelings of pride and resentment.

In the middle of the courtyard, an elderly man waited along with two other heavily armed Paladins and a female Scribe. Charon easily recognized their ranks by the paintings on their armors.

Dr. Li stopped in front of the man, her angry and stern face faltering. The man’s face softened, and he said something to her. Charon didn’t bother to hear what he said or Dr. Li’s reply, but judging by the way she motioned to the rest of the group, Leena in particular, he understood that the woman was explaining what had happened.

The elderly looking man, whom Charon understood had to be Elder Lyons himself, eventually finished his conversation with Dr. Li, and approached Leena. Charon overheard the man say to the Vault girl he had known her father, condolence her loss, and then invite her to stay in the Citadel. Leena accepted his invitation, requesting that the invitation was extended to her companions as well. The man’s gaze swept over the large ghoul, and then Anja, before he gave the girl an affirmative nod and instructed her to follow the female Scribe.

Charon’s attention was drawn to Anja’s limp when they started walking again. It was worsening and her pace was slowing down. He waited by the entrance to the large concrete building, holding the door open for her. She offered a nod, but no words, and then followed inside. They walked down some steps and through many different corridors, passing by several doors, some open and some closed. They also passed several more Brotherhood members, all of which watched the newcomers, especially the ghoul, with something in between suspicion and curiosity.

Eventually, the female Scribe leading them unlocked a door and held it open for Leena and her companions. Charon didn’t listen to the interaction between his employer and the Scribe, watching Anja as she stepped into the room and glanced around.

It was a basic room with three beds and three footlockers, and nothing more. Moving over to one of the beds to the side of the room Anja wordlessly began taking her weapons and gear off, throwing her backpack to the floor next to the bed.

Leena claimed the bed on the other side of the room and began removing her weapons and gear as well. None of the women said anything, leaving Charon to stand idly by the door. Once Anja was done, she sat down on the bedside with her back to them. Hesitantly, Charon reached into their bond.

She exhaled quietly while the exhaustion of a long and hard night crawled up her backside, along with a few shivers of aftershock from all the fighting they had done. He could feel her ears ringing, how her muscles hurt when she moved, and her bruised knuckles when she removed her leather gloves. But none of those pains were concerning. What concerned him was her leg. It was burning hot, and it felt thick and stiff when she moved.

As if she knew what he was thinking, Anja directed her attention to the wounded leg. She slowly removed her boot and lifted the torn fabric of her pants, inspecting the source of her pain.

Charon frowned, seeing through her eyes a deep wound in the shape of two half-moons facing each other. The wound was filthy and bloodied, dark and ugly to look at, and it was very visibly infected. He couldn’t remember very clearly what had transpired on her side of the bond while he was connected to her down there in the tunnels, but he knew she’d been fighting several ferals.

“Bitemark?” he asked out loud, not hiding the fact that he’d been looking through her eyes. He stepped closer to her, watching her shoulders tense when he did. She was still sitting with her back to him, and she quickly draped the fabric of her pants back down over the wound, covering it up. “You should get that looked at,” he continued.

Anja glanced sideways at him with a grimace. “Sure.”

“We need food,” Leena commented from the side. She sat on her own bed, looking pale and exhausted, and her eyes were puffy from quiet tears. “I’ll go find someone-“

“No,” Anja interrupted, pulling her boot back on and rising from the bed. “I’ll go. Get some sleep Leena. I’ll bring back some food and wake you, ok?”

“No,” Charon interrupted them both hoarsely, giving Anja a hard look. “ _I’ll_ go. I’ll find you a medic, or some stimpaks. And I’ll find us all something to eat.”

The women silenced, looking back at him with different expressions; Leena’s exhausted and grief-struck, Anja’s slightly disapproving but also exhausted. Too exhausted to argue, he understood, when she gave him a short nod.

“Thank you, Charon,” Leena said, relaxing on her bed.

He moved to the door, giving his employer a short nod. “Rest. Both of you.”

Once Charon was outside the room, he leaned his back on the wall for a moment, still feeling Anja through their bond. Something painful was working its way around inside her. It made her throat thick and her eyes sting, and he could clearly feel how she suppressed an urge to cry by taking deep and controlled breaths. Most likely, it was just fatigue, he reasoned. But it could also be something related to him and their bond. She’d been so angry with him since he’d rejected her aid back at the Memorial.

But her anger wasn’t just that; anger. She was hurt. His rejection had been harsh and sudden, and it had taken her by surprise. Charon understood that now, but he wasn’t about to apologize for it. What had she thought – that he’d let her touch him when he knew it made her sick to the stomach? He knew damn well that he was ugly as fuck, but honestly, he wasn’t sure he could handle seeing the disgust on her face.

Fate had indeed been cruel to them both, bonding a ghoul and a smoothskin.

He was lying if he didn’t admit to himself that he wanted her, wanted to be close to her. Hell, he’d been tempted to manhandle her into bed back in Rivet City, when he’d had the chance to do so. And that just made it even more difficult; to witness her unease when he knew that their bond was pulling her to him.

Charon was unable to remember what his life had been like with his first soulmate, but he’d been around for a long time. He’d heard stories. Intimacy between soulmates was a powerful thing. Physical proximity seemed to strengthen the connection, and once soulmates had breached that threshold, there was no going back. Not ever.

His weakness when Anja was close to him was starting to wear down his self-control. He’d proved that back in Rivet City. And it was wearing down _her_ self-control as well. If this continued, they’d be crossing that bridge a lot sooner than any of them were ready for. How could he in good conscience allow that to happen, when he knew damn well that she wasn’t comfortable around him? The mere thought made him sick. It bordered on abuse, brainwashing, using their bond against her to make her do something they both knew that she didn’t want. She’d be trapped in an attraction that wasn’t real.

Still feeling Anja through their bond and how she was still controlling that painful thing inside her, Charon began wondering. Intimacy was powerful, yes, but perhaps rejection was equally powerful? Granted, Anja had physically avoided him, rejecting his proximity many times already, but goddammit wasn’t he used to that by now? He was a ghoul. Most smoothskins found him repulsive, and he’d learned to just deal with it. Hell, he’d used it to his advantage as an intimidation strategy more times than he cared to remember.

But Anja however, had never been rejected before. Not by anyone. Not since her caretaker Eric had beaten it into her that no one was ever going to truly care about her. To his knowledge, she had never wanted to be close to anyone after that. It was possible that when he’d dismissed her effort to help him, he might as well have hit her just as hard as her caretaker had.

And he was her soulmate. He wasn’t supposed to reject her like that.

Closing his eyes with an exhale, Charon withdrew from the bond with Anja and focused on his surroundings. He had two goals; get his soulmate some stimpaks, and then some food for them all. Glancing at a sign on the wall, he stalked down the hallway in the direction of the medical bay.

…

 

After Charon had left the room, Anja laid down on the bed, facing the wall. Behind her, she heard Leena’s muffled sobs, and her whispering conversation with her own soulmate. By the sound of it, he was trying hard to comfort Leena, but it didn’t sound like his efforts were successful. The Vault girl was devastated, and now that they were all safe and no longer fighting for their lives, she allowed herself to grieve.

Anja suppressed a sob of her own and closed her eyes, trying not to eavesdrop on their conversation. She moved her painful leg to a position where it was free from pressure and tried to make herself as comfortable as she could. She curled up on her side and clutched around herself hard, biting down tears and shivers.

Nothing felt right anymore. She wished she had never met Leena. She wished she had never learned about her soulmate, and that she’d never tried to find him. She wished she could turn back the clock to a time when she didn’t _care_. When things didn’t hurt so much.

She’d had his contract between her hands. The one thing that kept Charon, her _soulmate_ , out of her reach. She could’ve just taken it and left Leena to die. Had it been a month earlier, she would’ve done it without a second thought. But now, however, she was glad that she hadn’t.

Because while Charon was still bound to Leena, it meant that Anja was free to leave whenever she wanted.

And as much as it hurt to even think about, she wanted to leave.

…

 

When Charon returned to the room later, balancing a tray of food in one hand, both women were fast asleep. He closed the door quietly behind him and set the tray down on the empty bed. Glancing over to the sleeping form of his soulmate, he fetched the newly acquired stimpaks out of his belt.

He’d had an interesting encounter with the residential doctor, Sawbones. It surprised him that half the Brotherhood wasn’t missing any limbs, because that machine’s programming was way off the charts. Luckily, it was licensed to trade medical supplies.

Approaching Anja’s bed, he kneeled next to it and very gently grabbed her shoulder to shake her awake. She was lying on her side, curled up with one arm bent under her head and the other draped over her chest.

When she didn’t respond, he shook a bit harder, rasping her name as carefully as his destroyed vocal cords would allow. It caused her to stir a little, but she still didn’t wake up. Frowning, he moved his hand to the side her throat, feeling her pulse under his fingers, and the temperature of her skin. Her pulse was a bit quick, and she was running a fever.

Cursing quietly, he shifted his position to sit on her bedside, turning to her wounded leg and pulling up the fabric of her pants. Even in the dimmed light in the room, he could clearly see that the infection had spread, and that it was the cause of her fever. The tissue around the bitemark had swelled further and it was almost black. Touching it carefully, yellow fluid oozed out of the wound.

Readying one of the stimpaks, he reached for her through the bond, and then used his free hand to grab around her calf in a way that opened the wound. More yellow fluids escaped the wound when he opened it, and he could feel the muscles in her leg tense in a reflexive protest to the pain. But she still didn’t wake up. Her end of the bond was still quiet.

He was no doctor, but he’d helped heal plenty of wounds on earlier employers. He knew that he needed to inject the stim as deep into the wound he could get, to prevent the tissue from healing around the infection.

Inserting the needle into the wound, he guided it as deep as he could, and then injected the stim. It caused her to stir, her end of the bond began to wake up. Charon quickly removed the needle, dropping it to the floor, and then placed his hand on her shoulder to keep her still. He was still holding around her leg, keeping the wound open while the effects of the stimpak was pushing more of the infection out of it.

Anja’s end of the bond woke fully, and she tensed with a moan. “Charon?”

“Stay still,” he grumbled, fastening his grip on her shoulder just a little. “Your leg is infected.”

“Shit that hurts,” she groaned. He could feel through their bond how she was trying to relax though, and he gave her an approving nod, monitoring the wound.

“It should. Means your nerves are undamaged.”

“Why are you doing this for me?”

“I tried to wake you.” He glanced up at her face, noticing that she was gritting her teeth.

“But why?”

His eyes trailed back to the wound. It had stopped leaking and looked better already. The bitemarks were still open, but they were red and clean. “This is my fault. I distracted you from defending yourself. Now don’t move.” Releasing her shoulder, he picked up a second stimpak and uncapped it with his teeth, injecting it into the wound like he had with the first one. It caused her to stiffen, but she didn’t move.

The bitemarks began to heal, the ruined and mangled skin knitting together and smoothing out, fading until nothing more than a thin line was visible. In a few hours, they’d disappear completely. Now that the infection was gone, the wounds themselves weren’t serious or deep enough to scar.

Charon released her calf and stood from the bed, picking up the emptied syringes. “There’s food over there of you,” he nodded towards the empty bed with the tray of food. “Water and some clean cloths are in my backpack, to clean up your leg.”

“Where are you going?” she asked when he’d begun moving towards the door. She had tuned on the bed and sat up, looking at him fully.

Charon stopped and looked down at his hands. One of them was smeared with the blood and pus from her wound, the other holding the two empty stimpaks. It should make him sick, but it didn’t. It made him feel guilty. “Just to wash this off. I’ll be back.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“I’ll set aside some for you.”

Charon gave her another nod, and then exited the room. The irony wasn’t lost on him; he’d kept an eye on her since she was born, tracked her down, helped her, wanted to keep her close. And now, he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

When he returned to the room an hour later, he already knew that Anja was fast asleep again. He’d checked in on their bond a few times, taking his time to wait her out, not wanting to be there in that awkward and angry silence with her.

Opening the door to the room, he saw that she’d set some food and a bottle of water down next to Leena’s bed. He sat down on the empty bed and narrowed his eyes at the plate Anja had left there for him, and then he glanced at Leena’s portion.

He distinctly remembered that he’d brought back three plates with the same exact amount of food on each of them. Leena’s portion was untouched, but his was bigger.

…

 

Leena was busy the next days, meeting with several important members of the Brotherhood. The Vault girl appeared to have worked through her grief, and now she’d vowed to keep her father’s memory alive by finishing the project he’d worked on. The very project he’d abandoned her in favor of.

Anja scoffed at the sentiment but kept her opinions private. It didn’t even surprise her, really, because that was just the kind of person Leena was; helpful. Even Three Dog rambled on the radio about how she was the savior of the Wasteland. Where that man got his information from was a mystery, but he always seemed to know what was going on.

What surprised Anja even less, however, was how Leena had declared that she still needed Charon by her side. The girl brought Charon with her to every meeting with these important Brotherhood people, and she was openly referring to him as her friend. As if he had any say at all. As if he was there by choice.

It made the bitterness in Anja’s mouth taste even worse than it had ever before. She’d decided to not just take his contract off from Leena’s dying body, and this was how the Vault girl repaid her? By tightening her hold on him as if he was some kind of dog she needed to keep on a short leash?

Because Leena _knew_ that Anja had found his contract. They hadn’t talked about it, she hadn’t questioned Anja about it. But she had clapped her chest pocket very discreetly and mothed a silent ‘thank you’.

Nothing felt right anymore.

Anja knew that their bond would make it hard for him to let her go, so she had no intention of giving him the opportunity to try and stop her. She needed Leena’s cooperation if she was going to succeed.

…

 

One afternoon a week after they’d arrived at the Citadel, Anja approached Leena while she was eating in the courtyard, watching the Brotherhood recruits train with power armors. She couldn’t see Charon anywhere, and decided this was one of the few shots she had at talking with Leena alone.

Sitting down on the bench next to her, she gave the girl a smile and followed her gaze. “I’m sure they’ll let you have one of those if you ask them. Elder Lyons seems to trust you a great deal.”

Leena shrugged around a mouthful of the stew she was eating. “Maybe. But I’m not sure I’ll be comfortable wearing something so heavy.”

“All it takes is practice, I’m sure.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Anja turned to face the girl fully. “You’re leaving for Vault 87 soon, right?”

“In a few days. We think the G.E.C.K device inside there might still be operational,” Leena nodded, turning her gaze away from the recruits and focusing on Anja. “Wait.. You said ‘you’. Aren’t you coming?”

Anja responded with a small shrug. “I wanted to talk to you about that.” She saw Leena open her mouth, and quickly interrupted before the girl had time to protest. “Listen. While you’ve been busy planning your next move, I’ve been thinking. And I asked around. I want to help, you know that, but I’m not sure travelling with you is the right thing for me.”

“What are you talking about? You’re doing so well with us.” Leena quickly set her food aside and grabbed one of Anja’s hands. “And Charon-”

“No, listen to me,” she shook her head. “I’ve talked to Scribe Rothchild, and then with Scribe Jameson in the archives. You know they’re not just researching pre-war technology, right?”

Leena nodded, mouth closed, allowing Anja to finish talking.

“Scribe Jameson keeps track of all the knowledge the Brotherhood has gathered, and I’ve been allowed to look at some of it. To say that it’s lacking is an understatement.”

“How so?”

Taking a deep breath, Anja gathered what knowledge she had about science, mustering forth as much conviction as she could. She needed Leena to believe this, and the only way to do that was to make her see the need for it. “They don’t even have any means to accurately predict what the consequences of your Project Purity might be. I’m not just talking about the environmental consequences, but also the sociological.”

A frown began to form on Leena’s delicate forehead. “What consequences? It will mean free and clean water for everyone, which in turn mean less radiation and better health.”

Anja leaned forward, grabbing bot of Leena’s hands in her own, squeezing them gently. “No, Leena. It’ll mean that certain people, _bad people_ , might use this to control others. Just because you’re offering free and clean water to everyone doesn’t mean people will change and become good overnight. And it doesn’t mean that people won’t stop trying to use others’ misfortune to their advantage. This concerns the entire population of the Wasteland, Leena. It’s not just about fulfilling your father’s legacy to make yourself feel better about his death.” Seeing Leena’s wavering eyes, Anja squeezed the girl’s hands harder, trying to comfort her. It was almost unfair to use her father’s death against her like that. “Not anymore,” she added softer.

“What are you suggesting, then?” the Vault girl asked after a moment of silence. Her smooth face almost had a shocked expression.

“I think,” Anja began slowly, glancing around her quickly to scan for a familiar large frame, not seeing him anywhere. “And Scribe Rothchild and Jameson agrees with me on this, as well as Dr. Li.”

“Wait, what? _Dr. Li_?” Leena’s shoulders tensed. “You’re talking to _her_?”

“No Leena. But Scribe Rothchild is. We all think that the Brotherhood should prepare for as much as they can, and one way of doing that is to try to scientifically predict the sociological outcome of this project. But to so do, they need reliable information. They don’t even have any scientific formulas to work from, because this hasn’t ever been done before.”

Taking a deep breath, Leena’s eyes lowered to their hands. “Okay. Keep talking.”

Anja suppressed a smile and scooted closer. “I’ve offered to travel to Arlington Library. That Library contains a lot of scientific material, and I’ve offered to go there and search for the information the Brotherhood needs. Scribe Jameson has a team there.”

“But if Scribe Jameson already has a team there, why do they need you?”

“The Library is big, and from what I understand of what Scribe Jameson says, the team’s work is slow. I’ve-” she sighed, biting her lip. “I’ve spent a lot of time there over the years, Leena. I know my way around that place very well.”

Shaking her head, Leena’s expression looked wounded, hurt almost. “You’re serious about this?”

“I am,” Anja assured her. “I want to help, and this is where I might actually make a difference. Please Leena, try to understand.”

“But…” the girls lips shook, and her dark eyes looked at Anja almost pleadingly. “I’ve come to rely on you having my back out there. And now you want to leave?”

“I’m not the only one who’s been watching your back. You still have Charon, remember?” She couldn’t help the tinge of ice dripping into her voice.

Her words had the Vault girl’s frown reappear. “Wait, this isn’t about me, is it?”

Anja kept silent, watching the girl’s face as it shifted through many different emotions, finally settling into understanding. When she spoke again, her voice was soft.

“Of course, this isn’t about me. Not really. Because you don’t need my permission to go, do you?”

Anja shook her head gently. “No, I don’t. But I need you to _let_ me go, you understand?”

With a nod, Leena took a few deep breaths. “I understand. I’ll… Let me think about it, ok?”

“No,” she shook her head. “You’ll have to decide now, because they need me to go first thing tomorrow.”

Leena released her hands, moving them up to her face to rub at her forehead. “Oh my god,” she complained. “Charon’s going to kill me.”

“No, he won’t.” Anja smiled.

“Oh yes he will,” the girl insisted. “You didn’t see what he did to his previous employer when his contract shifted hands. He _will_ kill me.”

“Are you planning to sell or give up his contract?”

Leena sighed and gave her a slight accusatory look. “That’s unfair. You know I can’t do that yet.”

“Then you got nothing to worry about.”

Leaning back, they both sighed. Anja from frustration, Leena from sadness. They sat next to each other, looking at the recruits while they trained, not speaking for a long time.

She hadn’t lied. Not really. Scribe Jameson had been practically beside herself when Anja told her that she had extensive knowledge of the Arlington library, and the Brotherhood really did have an interest in trying to predict the outcome of activating the purifier. But Anja wasn’t planning to stick around for long, after she’d delivered the information the scientists needed. She’d heard a rumor, about a ferry stationed not far from Arlington Library. And it would take her somewhere else.

Somewhere away from everything.

She’d still be bonded with Charon, she knew that. But maybe some distance would do them both good. Maybe it would hurt less if she wasn’t constantly reminded that her soulmate was someone else’s slave. And given time, Charon might even appreciate that she left. He’d always kept a certain distance to her, but the flat-out avoidance he’d taken to recently was becoming ridiculous.

He wasn’t even looking at her now. It was as if he couldn’t even manage to stay in the same room as her.

“You know…” Leena interrupted her thoughts slowly. “Ahzrukhal, Charon’s previous employer, said that Charon had done something that earned him his employment.”

“Did he say what?”

“No. I never asked Charon about it.”

“Why not?”

The Vault girl shook her head, dark eyes slowly turning to meet Anja’s. “Because I know that he’d answer if I did, and I’m not sure that I want to know.” Leena shrugged, grabbing her own elbows with a slight shiver when she continued. “We both know that he’s capable of anything. Whatever he did, I’m guessing it was something very bad.”

Moving uncomfortably, Anja frowned. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to understand that I’m not letting you go lightheartedly.”

“Oh my god,” Anja gaped, suddenly understanding, seeing the paleness in Leena’s face and the slightly too dark color of her eyes. “You’re afraid of him.”

Leena’s smile was timid and small. “Aren’t we all?”

“Then why do you keep him around Leena?”

“Because as long as I hold his contract, Anja, he won’t harm me in any way. I’ve tried to be a good employer for him. I’ve tried not to give him any reason to resent me.” She chuckled humorously. “I have no idea if I’ve succeeded. Maybe he’s resented me from the start out of mere principle. But this?” she nodded towards Anja, face darkening. “This he will _hate_ me for.”

“So, you’re saying you’ll let me go?”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Leena answered quietly, her voice soft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, I'm really struggling with these chapters. I have a clear timeline for this story, but I hadn't planned this chapter and the next one very well. All I knew was that I needed Leena to be done with certain quests before I take Anja and Charon's story further. Just jumping through time didn't seem like a good idea, so I struggled my way through this, word-for-word. I have no idea how many times I've rewritten these chapers over the past weeks now.  
> Let me know how I'm doing, ok?  
> We have one more cringeworthy chapter to go, and after that I promise it'll get better ;)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, here's that second cringeworthy chapter I promised. 
> 
> Try to enjoy, ok? It may not seem like it, but I worked hard on these ones.

**Rage**

 

Charon clutched his shotgun hard in both hands. He ground his teeth and glared daggers at the back of his employer’s head, imagining it explode in so many ways it almost made him sick to his stomach. He was surprised she had the courage to walk in front of him through this abandoned cave, with her back to him. But then again, she probably trusted him to be sufficiently subjugated by his contract to try anything violent.

In a moment of malice, he wondered if he should speak out loud and tell her about all the ways he could kill her at any given moment. And none of those fantasies involved shooting her. Right at this moment, all it would take was one, perfectly aimed punch from his fist to a special little spot on her upper neck, and she’d collapse dead before she hit the ground. If he fancied to toy around a little, he might aim the punch lower, crushing her spinal cord instead. She’d be paralyzed and awake enough to experience first-hand just how savage he was with a knife. That had been Ahzrukhal’s favorite thing about him, and maybe Leena would like a demonstration.

Or, he mused, considering her small head. He could simply grab her head with both hands and crack it open like an egg. That would certainly be satisfying, albeit messy.

He could pick her off the ground and fold her body in half, _the wrong way_ , and then watch her scream until her lungs collapsed. He could sever her windpipe and just one of the vital arteries so that she choked and drowned in her own blood. He could…

_No_ , he shook his head, clearing his mind and realizing he was stalking closer to her than he should. He couldn’t do any of those things. He may have the skills and the knowledge to do a great deal of harm and deliver an unfathomable amount of pain, but he couldn’t do any of it. Not to his employer.

Besides, he frowned, glaring at her small and fragile head. Leena was Anja’s friend. He’d felt through their bond when she left that she was genuinely concerned for Leena’s safety.

He had once, not too long ago, pondered about the nature of his own personality and wondered what kind of man he really was. He’d wanted to prove to Anja that underneath all the scars and this godawful façade was a good man. A man who’d wanted to be better, to do better, for her sake. Because she deserved someone better.

But who the fuck was he trying to fool, Charon raged inwardly, still glaring at his employer’s head, envisioning it explode into a bloody fountain. Leena had explicitly commanded him to stay out of Anja’s way when she left, but he still should’ve tried to stop her. Because he’d learned that the pain from defying certain commands was something he could tolerate.

But he hadn’t… And shit, that was a tough one. Anja had been calm when she left. But he’d caught the shock coming from her by his lack of reaction, then the doubt, and then the anger. He hadn’t even said a word to her. And whenever he spoke to her now, he could feel how she was caught somewhere in the middle of a confused sadness and hot rage.

Confusion and rage were feelings he could relate to all too well. Sometimes one more than the other. Right at this moment, walking behind his employer and contemplating which method of killing her would bring him the most satisfaction, rage was the dominant feeling.

“Hold it right there, lady!” a fierce and very young voice called up ahead, startling Leena and Charon to stop in their tracks.

Charon lifted his gaze from Leena’s head and peered into the darkness, spotting the top of a helmeted head far off in the distance, hiding behind a wooden structure that blocked the path. It belonged to someone small. Reflexively, he quickly pulled his employer behind himself, leveling his shotgun in the same motion.

“Don’t take another step,” the young voice warned, loading a gun that sounded suspiciously like an assault rifle. “Or we’ll blow your fucking head off!”

“Hey!” Leena called from behind Charon. “We’re not planning to start any trouble. I’m looking for Vault 87. Can you help me find it?”

Before the kid with the gun had time to answer, another voice broke the silence, coming from further off in the distance.

“Hey MacCready! Hold on, that’s the lady who rescued us from Paradise Falls.”

Charon exhaled in a half-chuckle, feeling his earlier mentioned rage recede just a little. Apparently, this cave wasn’t abandoned after all. It looked like they’d just found Little Lamplight - the underground city of children.

…

 

Anja was busy leafing through a journal of social sciences. She’d been stuck in this section of the library for days now, searching along with Scribe Yearling for anything useful. It was tedious work, and with Anja’s limited knowledge of science, it was even harder.

Okay, so maybe she’d lied to Scribe Rothchild and the others back at the Citadel. She’d led them to believe that she knew exactly where to look for the information they needed, and she’d managed to be persuasive enough to fool even herself. But the truth was, she didn’t even know what she was looking for. Formulas to conduct theoretical research? What the hell did that even mean? What did these formulas look like?

Along with Scribe Yearling, she’d worked her way through the entire section of the behavioral sciences, then the environmental sciences, and now the social sciences. At first glance, everything sounded like it could be relevant to what she was looking for, but when she dug a little deeper, she understood that it wasn’t.

She avoided the general psychology section, not wanting to touch that field of study just yet. But the more she read in these journals and books, the more she understood that all of it was related to psychology in some way or another.

Putting the journal down while she straightened to stretch her sore back, Anja groaned silently in frustration. And then she sneezed. The library was a dusty.

_“Take a break,”_ the raspy voice of her soulmate commented, causing Anja to startle. _“The books aren’t going anywhere.”_

“Can’t,” she whispered, glancing at Scribe Yearling’s back sitting at a table a few rows in front of her. “We need to get this information to the Brotherhood before you and Leena return.”

_“You’re in no hurry. This will take a while.”_

Anja’s attention peeked at the amused tone of his voice, and she tilted her head with a frown. “Oh yeah? How so?”

_“Got a small army of super mutants to fight through before we get to the Vault.”_

“Oh.” Her frown deepened. Why did that make him sound so thrilled? “Will you be alright?”

_“I’ll be fine.”_

A numb chill began working its way up her spine. “And Leena?”

His response came slow after several heartbeats. His voice was hard and cold. _“She’ll be fine.”_

“You don’t sound very reassuring.” Crossing her arms, she glared at the air in front of her.  

Before Charon had time to answer, Scribe Yearling turned in her seat and gave Anja a puzzled look. “Who are you talking to?”

Anja uncrossed her arms and smoothed her face, picking up the scientific journal again. “Uh, no one. I have a habit of talking to myself when I’m reading.”

“Uh-huh?” the young Scribe said, raising her eyebrows. “Do you also read upside down?” Her eyes cast a meaningful look at the journal in Anja’s hands.

Anja lowered her gaze with a chuckle, turning the thick magazine around the right way. “No of course not. I was just taking a break.”

The Scribe turned back to her desk with another skeptical glance in Anja’s direction, shaking her head a little.

Anja sighed quietly, tossing the journal down and leaning her head in her hands, rubbing at her temples.

_“You know,”_ Charon rasped slowly. _“For someone who insisted on doing this, you don’t feel like you enjoy it very much.”_

She shook her head.

_“You’re hating every second of it, aren’t you?”_

Nodding, she moved her hands to rub at her eyes instead. They were dry and stinging slightly from all the reading. She’d thought this was going to be an easy way for her to get away from Leena and Charon, but at the rate she was working her way through the library, she’d still be stuck here when they returned. And she did _not_ want another confrontation when they realized that she had no intention of joining them again.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head from her hands and picked up the journal again, blinking the tiredness out of her eyes.

…

 

Charon and Leena had fought their way through Murder Pass, killing every super mutant they encountered. It was a tough fight, and Leena muttered several times that she wished Anja was there with them. Charon agreed very much. His employer had decided to take the significantly more dangerous path through Murder Pass, out of concern for the children in Little Lamplight and their safety. Although he despised her, he also found himself reluctantly respecting her decision.

Before they entered Vault 87, they took a moment to breathe and heal their wounds. Without the added protection from Anja’s gun, they were taking considerably more damage. Both of them.

When they proceeded through the Vault door, Charon already felt his skin prickle. There was radiation down there. A lot of it, in fact.

He leveled his shotgun and trailed behind Leena with careful movements, hazy gray eyes peering over her head, searching for dangers. It would’ve been so easy to just hesitate for a second too long. It would’ve been so easy to just let one of the mutants bash her skull in. But the contract was firmly in place and preventing him from deviating from his duties for even a second.

They walked through an area that looked like it had been the living quarters of this Vault. They encountered several super mutants, and Charon disposed of them efficiently while Leena took her time to scavenge for valuables in every room. She tossed some of the loot his way every now and then. Charon wordlessly took it and stored the stuff in his own backpack.

Everywhere they looked, they saw mutilated human bodies and skeletons, and many neatly wrapped nets of body parts and organs.

After the living quarters, they entered an area with many small rooms. There were windows from the hallway, allowing them to see into the rooms. Almost every room had a surgery table or a stretcher, and there were some disturbing creatures inside some of the rooms. Most of them dead. A few of them alive. One of them a crazed human man.

“What the hell….?” his employer whispered, looking through one of the windows at the dead creature inside. It looked like a human in the middle of the transformation between human and… something else. A mutant centaur, perhaps. She tapped the keyboard of a terminal, her smooth face shifting into a deep frown. “Oh my god… They… They experimented on live human subjects.”

Charon gripped his shotgun harder. “This body is recent. Not much older than a week.”

Leena swallowed and backed away from the terminal, her otherwise pretty face pale with shock. “I’m going to be sick…”

Both their attention turned to a sound further down the corridor. A voice, deep and rough like a mutant, was calling for their attention. Charon quickly leveled his aim towards the sound, stepping closer.

“You... over there. Please, come speak to me. I'm in the room to your left. Use the intercom next to the window,” the rough voice begged as they approached.

“Be cautious,” Charon grumbled when Leena moved to hurry past him towards the sound. He gripped her shoulder tight and kept her behind himself.

“It speaks!” she muttered, dark eyes wide when they approached the window where the creature had called from.

It was a super mutant. Bulging muscles, green skin and distorted features, all there. But it spoke to them. Charon kept his aim at the window, even though he knew the glass could sustain a great deal of damage. Leena pressed the intercom button warily.

The mutant introduced himself as Fawkes. It begged them to release him. Leena wasn’t convinced, although she seemed impressed by the mutant’s ability to speak. Charon had to admit, the creature was articulate for someone of his kind.

When the creature warned Leena that she wouldn’t be able to retrieve the G.E.C.K without his help, her distrust intensified. She questioned him about his knowledge, how much he knew about the device, and how he could know that she wouldn’t be able to retrieve it without his help. Fawkes assured her that she wouldn’t, but he refused to give her any explanations.

Shaking her head, Leena released the intercom button and turned to look at Charon. “Let’s keep going.”

Charon offered her a nod, but no words, and trailed after her down the corridor. Behind them, the mutant Fawkes was banging on the window, calling them back, begging them to reconsider.

…

 

‘Eureka’ was a funny word. A word that Anja had read about a long time ago. Once upon a time, it had been used as an exclamation of joy when discovering or inventing something important. A word of celebration. After she’d read about it the first time, she’d always wanted to use it. Now, she found herself in an appropriate situation, and that word was the only appropriate word she could think of.

“Eureka!” she said loudly, springing to her feet, looking excitedly down at the papers in her hands.

Scribe Yearling gave her a funny look. “Eure-what-now?”

“Eureka,” Anja clarified. “It’s… whatever. Look!” she hurried over to the Scribe, showing her the papers. “I found something.”

The Scribe took the papers from her carefully, mindful of their aged and fragile state, and read quickly through them. Then she smiled. “Good job, Anja! This is perfect.”

“I know,” Anja nodded and pointed to the last page of the papers. “And look, here’s a list of references. Now we know what else to look for.”

The Scribe nodded, looking equally excited as Anja. “Let’s get to work.”

…

 

“No,” Charon grumbled, glaring at his employer. “I’m nobody’s errand boy.”

His employer looked absolutely stunned by his refusal. “What? I thought you were bound to my commands.”

Charon almost laughed. “The contract entitles you to my services in combat. I’m bound to protect you and keep you alive. But I am not required to commit suicide.”

Blinking several times, Leena braved a step closer to him. “Are you serious? You’re a ghoul, you’re practically immune to radiation.”

“No. _Wrong_ ,” Charon snarled, eyeing the way she was trying to corner him. _Bring it_ , he wanted to shout, taunt her into trying to hit him. She certainly looked like she wanted to.

“Explain this to me, then,” she ordered.

Sighing, he lifted the end of his shotgun, resting it against his shoulder. “You know physical violence on your part invalidates the contract. I’m a ghoul, yes. I can withstand a large amount of radiation. But that,” he nodded towards the corridor on the other side of the window. The area was practically glowing with radiation. He could feel it through the wall - the prickle in his skin. He’d felt it all the way to the entrance. This was the source. “That will either kill me or turn me feral.”

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t hesitate to try and follow this order, no matter how violent it was. In fact, having his contract with Leena invalidated suited him perfectly well. But he didn’t want to die, and he certainly didn’t want to turn feral.

“No, that can’t be right,” Leena objected. “You’ve put yourself in dangerous situations before. Situations where you could’ve died just as easily. A command to protect me and follow me into battle could’ve been considered physical violence, if what you’re saying is true.”

“But I didn’t die,” he countered with a small, almost vicious smile. “I’ve barely been wounded. I know how to fight. I know how to keep myself, and you, alive. And I also know that going into that corridor might kill me.”

His employer took a step back, away from him, biting her lip. “Well damn,” she muttered, dark eyes trailing to the corridor. “Okay. You won’t go, then I’ll go. I think I saw a radiation suit somewhere back where we came from.”

She turned on her heel, ready to backtrack, when Charon quickly blocked her way. His face twisted in annoyance and self-contempt. “Can’t let you do that.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll die.”

“Why do you care?” she snarled back, circling around him.

“ _I don’t_ ,” Charon barked, moving to block her exit once again. His angered response made her stiffen, mouth halfway open, eyes wide. “You might survive. You might not. I don’t fucking care. But my contract requires me to protect you. And if you die in there, I’m stuck down here.”

Not entirely true. He couldn’t touch his contract, and he’d be stuck down here until someone came to take if off from Leena’s body. He would’ve found a way for Anja to come and take it, if it wasn’t for the possibility that she’d be risking her life while she retrieved it. The only option he had was to try and convince that mutant back there, Fawkes, to take his contract.

But he _really_ didn’t want to be employed by a super mutant. No matter how articulate the creature appeared.

Leena was growing increasingly annoyed, clenching her fists. Physical violence on her part would force him to respond in equal measure. It had proved fatal to all his previous employers who’d failed to respect that boundary. Despite how tempting it was to provoke her, he restrained himself.

“There’s still one option left,” he said, nodding once in the direction they had come from. “The super mutant said he knows where the G.E.C.K is.”

“Okay,” Leena nodded, exhaling the annoyance out of her stance. “Okay Charon. We’ll do this your way.”

Charon gave her a nod, and leveled his shotgun again, walking ahead of her back to the super mutant.

…

 

Anja hunched over a thick stack of papers and journals, attention fixed on the task at hand. After she’d found that one paper by luck, their search was going a lot smoother. And it was all thanks to the pre-war scientists’ meticulous lists of references.

Their pile of related research was growing by the hour, and soon, they’d have enough to give the Brotherhood scientists a solid guideline on how to proceed with their own research. Anja and Scribe Yearling found correlating methods and theories regarding the sociological effects of environmental changes, as well as empirical data that looked at the societal changes when different groups were given free access to essential and life-preserving supplies, such as clean water.

Charon hadn’t spoken to her since he and Leena had ventured into Vault 87. Even though she worried for her friend’s safety, she was ecstatic about the prospect of finishing her work before they came back.

Adjusting the old oil lamp and absentmindedly shifting her position, she continued reading the papers in front of her. It was late in the evening, but she couldn’t stop. Not when she was so close.

Suddenly, something pulled at her attention. Pain latched onto her head, and she saw a flash of bright light. It was powerful enough to make her reel back and fall out of her chair.

“Charon?!” she yelled, shocked while she scrambled on the floor. The library was gone, no longer in her sights. All she saw were blurred images of a darkened hallway, and a high-pitched sound filled her ears. “Charon? What’s going on?”

He was lying on the floor, groaning and blinking hard to focus. He wasn’t in pain yet, but the dull warning at the back of his head was enough for Anja to understand that Leena was in trouble. Scrambling to her feet, she stumbled forward. “Charon,” she repeated, stronger this time. “Get up!”

He groaned and turned to his stomach, bringing his hands underneath himself, trying to push off the floor. Anja saw people in his peripheral vision, and through the high-pitched sound in his ears, she heard a male voice. Her blood froze when she recognized the accent of the voice. It was Colonel Autumn.

“Get up and find your employer,” she barked at Charon, feeling how her hard voice created a shiver down his back. He felt weak, robbed of strength and shaking from the incredible effort it was just to try and focus. He was struggling to stay conscious.

The edges of his vision darkened, and he fell back to the floor. “Don’t pass out,” Anja grumbled, panicking when she felt him slip from her mind. “Don’t you dare leave her alone!”

He didn’t respond. When his mind finally withdrew from hers, Anja felt his vision darken completely, and he lost consciousness. She was cast back into herself violently, causing her to stagger and stumble backwards over some debris in the library.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, Anja just sat there on the ground.

He wasn’t wounded, she was certain of that. He had felt unharmed, but disoriented. She didn’t know what kind of weapon he’d been struck with, but whatever it was, he wasn’t harmed by it.

But Leena, on the other hand, was in deep trouble.

…

 

When Charon awoke, the first thing he noticed was the chilled wind of the outdoors grazing his face. His eyes flew open, seeing the dark night sky, and he instantly grabbed for his shotgun, only to find it missing.

“Easy there, friend,” a rough voice chimed. Heavy feet stomped over to him.

Charon flung around, looking up at the large figure looming over him. He quickly pulled his knife out and staggered onto his feet. “Where’s the human?”

The super mutant stopped and gave Charon’s knife a slow look, before he raised his hands slightly in a signal of peace. “Your friend was taken. By the men in strange armors.”

“Where did they take her?”

“That way,” Fawkes said, nodding north. “They took her in a flying thing. Flew that way.”

“Vertibird,” Charon corrected, lowering his knife, feeling the dull pain at the back of his head reemerge. He needed to find his employer. “It’s called a Vertibird.” He gave the super mutant another glance. “You dragged me out here?”

“Yes,” Fawkes confirmed, nodding. “The human called your name. You must be important to her.”

Grumbling under his breath, Charon tucked the knife back into his belt, his eyes narrowed. “Is that my shotgun?”

“It is?” Fawkes quickly retrieved the weapon strapped to his back. “I am sorry. I didn’t know it was yours.” Stepping forward slowly, he handed it over to Charon.

Charon checked the drum magazine, seeing that it still had all the ammo left. It meant that Fawkes hadn’t wandered off with it or used it yet. “How long was I out for?” he asked then, looking back up at the night sky. Far off in the horizon, she sky was starting to brighten.

“All night.”

Nodding to himself, he reached out through the bond, locating his soulmate in an instant. His memory was a little vague, but he was certain that he had felt her presence just before he’d passed out. He must’ve reached for her when he was hit with the flashbangs, an instinctual response to his sudden incapacitated state.

Anja’s vision immediately overlapped his, and he saw how she was collecting papers in neat stacks, tucking them into large folders. She felt… rushed and anxious. After that, she proceeded to pack the folders into several duffle bags, readying them for transport. She wasn’t just anxious, but also angry and conflicted.

A couple of armed and armored Brotherhood Paladins entered the library, and Anja talked with them for quite some time. Charon understood that these Paladins had been sent from the Citadel to secure the research she had recovered. When she was alone again, the Paladins had taken the duffle bags out of her possession. She sat down on a staircase, hands wrung tight together.

He slowly and without speaking allowed a small reassurance flow through to her, and he immediately heard her gasp. It was all he could give, at this time, but she seemed to appreciate it no matter how small it was. Relief washed into her, coming back to him in return. There was no need to upset her by letting her know that Leena was missing.

Besides, he didn’t want Fawkes to learn of his bond. It might prove dangerous.

When he began to walk in the direction the super mutant had pointed to, he was aware that the mutant was following him. He didn’t know what to make of that, but he didn’t really care either. All he wanted, _needed_ , was to find his employer, and then get back to his soulmate.

…

 

He was alright.

She paced back and forth in the library, biting her fingernails and trying not to give into the urge to tug at their bond. He hadn’t said a word, but he had given her reassurance that he was unharmed and awake. She knew he was unharmed, because she had _felt_ him. Felt how his contract was pulling at him, and how his body felt strong and powerful. She’d even felt the weight of his shotgun in his hands and the slightly tight embrace of the sheriff’s hat on top of his head.

Anja had no idea if he’d intended for her to feel all those things, but she didn’t care.

Because he was alright.

She should leave. The ferry had already gone and returned twice during the days she stalled. But she couldn’t leave yet.

Pacing through the library, Anja tried to distract herself by reading. Sometimes she found interesting literature about soulmates, and sometimes she kept reading the same page over and over again, not seeing a word.

Nights were the hardest. She knew that Charon didn’t sleep, and the first night she had almost expected him to reach out for her. But he didn’t. After he sent her that small reassurance, she didn’t feel him again, and it was killing her.

When she laid there in her sleeping bag at night, after she’d tossed and turned for hours, Anja felt her self-control waiver more than ever. But she kept restraining herself. For some reason, she knew that he was busy. Something had happened, and he was busy trying to take care of it.

It made the wait even harder.

But then suddenly, four days after she’d felt him try to reassure her, something changed. It wasn’t just what came through their bond, but it was all around her as well. The Brotherhood people still stationed at the library were growing restless. They talked to each other in urged voices. They crowded around a radio, listening to Three Dog’s voice.

Anja moved closer. Hearing the suave radio host’s voice while he declared that _President Eden was dead._ Several Brotherhood voices gasped in disbelief, and someone quickly changed the radio station to the signal that had been the Enclave Radio.

And there was only static.

Changing it back to the Galaxy News station, they heard Three Dog say that the entire Enclave base at Raven Rock was completely destroyed, and that they had the Vault girl and her companions to thank for it.

_Companions_ , Anja thought with a frown. _Companions_ , as in plural, more than one?

Backing away from the small crowd of Brotherhood Scribes and soldiers, her self-control evaporated, and she tugged at the bond to get Charon’s attention. “Talk to me,” she whispered, voice hoarse and thick with worry.

But Charon still didn’t speak to her, although he sent her reassurance again.

“No, none of that,” Anja frowned and walked further away from the Brotherhood crowd. “Talk to me.”

_Refusal_ came in return, along with a _warning_.

“You’re not alone?” she asked then, frown deepening. “Who’s with you?”

She could feel him sigh, and then reach for her further. Anja quickly sat down on the floor to steady herself, breathing a little hard as Charon grasped her side of the bond, pulling her towards him. He wasn’t so careful about it now as he had been the first time, but it was still a lot gentler than when he’d been about to pass out.

Anja blinked, seeing through his eyes that he was outside, walking with his shotgun lowered in one hand. He quickly placed his other hand on top of his own, giving _her_ hand a gentle squeeze. She could smell fire from his clothes, and his knuckles were sore. He lifted his gaze, and then slowly turned around, looking behind him.

Anja reeled, feeling her physical body jerk, and feeling how the mental force behind her shock made Charon stumble in his tracks.

“Is that… Is that a super mutant?” The large and green creature was stomping at a slow pace behind Leena, armed with a huge and devastating weapon she had only seen a couple of times in her life; a Gatling laser.

Charon nodded once, shifting his focus calmly towards Leena. The Vault girl appeared unharmed, but she had a hardened and pale look on her face, and she was clutching a suitcase to her chest.

“Is that the G.E.C.K?” she asked.

Charon carefully shook his head and turned to look forward again. Anja exhaled in disappointment, and Charon clenched his jaw in response.

She closed her eyes, her _real_ eyes, in another disappointed exhale. This would only mean that Leena wouldn’t give up his contract yet. She had said, after all, that she needed Charon to help her see this through. No matter how scared she was of him now, she still needed him.

Anja may have planned to leave, but she had stalled her departure. She had hoped that Leena would succeed, that the Vault girl would finally free Charon from his employment. But that wasn’t about to happen anytime soon.

“Anja?” someone on her side of the bond said. Anja felt Charon release his hold on her, careful enough not to shock her when she came back into her own self. She blinked, focusing her eyes up at the person who had spoken to her. Scribe Yearling was there, along with one of the Paladins.

“Yes?” she said and rose from her position on the floor to stand.

“We’re going to head back to the Citadel tomorrow morning. Would you like to travel with us?”

“No.” Anja shook her head, still feeling Charon, knowing he was listening. “No, I’m not going back.”

Confusion and anger came through the bond, and Anja closed her eyes a second, trying to send an apology in return.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you give spoiler warnings to a 10 years old game?   
> I’ve tried not to retell the storyline of Point Lookout too much, because I know how much that annoys me when writers do that. But in that regard, if you haven’t played through this add-on, much of these chapters won’t make sense at all. This is my favorite add-on for Fallout 3, and if you haven’t played through it, I strongly recommend it.
> 
> Now, I know that the journey from the Capital Wasteland to Point Lookout supposedly takes 30 in-game days. But that doesn't make any sense at all. According to the Fallout Wikia, the add-on takes place in Point Lookout State Park. I used my search engine's map to see how far away that park is, and as I understand it, this park islocated at the south point of where the Potomac river ends. If you walk the distance from Arlington Library (the real location) and to the park, in a straight line, you'll spend aproximately 27 hours. Considering that Anja takes a ferry following the river, I think 30 HOURS is more likely than 30 days. So I hope you'll excuse me for breaking out of the lore a little on this one. 
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing these chapters, and I hope you'll enjoy them.   
> Thank you for reading :)

**Point Lookout**

 

Anja had never left the Capital Wasteland before. The ferry would take her to a place called Point Lookout. It was a log trip. A little over a full day and night if the weather was good. 30 hours, the ferryman said.

She met a woman on the docks when she was about to board the Duchess Gambit. A woman named Catherine who desperately begged Anja to search for her missing daughter. Her daughter, Nadine, had left a couple of weeks ago, and no one had heard from her since. Catherine described her daughter; young, with orange colored hair. Anja didn’t want to give the woman any false hopes, but when Catherine pushed a letter into her hand, she promised to at least keep an eye out.

Leaving the Capital Wasteland was a lot harder than she’d thought it would be. Her mind kept returning to the people she left behind, and even though she was angry, it still hurt to leave. But how could she stay when that hurt her even more?

She was relieved that Leena was safe. Obviously, she was. She was also relieved that both Leena and Charon had made it safely back to the Citadel. The fact that they were back, however, had put an end to her stalling and hastened her departure. Charon had been angry when he learned that she wasn’t joining then at the Citadel again, but he’d calmed quickly enough. The Arlington Library wasn’t more than a couple of hours walk from the Citadel. She wasn’t far, and he understood she needed some space.

But she hadn’t told him she was planning to put even more space between them.

Watching the southern part of the Capital vanish in the morning fog, all she could feel was a deep and agonizing tremor of _wrong_. But she knew now what it was, and she ignored it as best she could. It was her bond, warning her that she was moving away from her soulmate. She was defying biology and her very soul, and it was wrong.

She had bribed the ferryman Tobar handsomely to heave him depart early in the morning. Earlier than she’d normally wake up. Earlier than Charon would expect her to be awake.

It was the only way she knew he would be less likely to watch what she was doing. It was the only way she’d be able to leave at all. Because she knew, that if Charon had come to stop her, she’d let him. In some ugly and conflicted part of her, Anja wanted him to stop her. She wanted him to follow her.

Most of all, she wanted him to _want_ to follow her.

But now it was too late. The city disappeared behind a curve in the Potomac river, and unfamiliar scenes took over, and it was too late.

She spent most of the morning outside, watching the sights they passed and feeling the wet breeze of the river on her cheeks. Tobar spoke with her on a few occasions, asking if she needed anything, if she was seasick yet. He also bragged a great deal about the Punga Fruits he usually brought with him back to the Capital. Anja had never heard of the fruit before. She talked to him as little as possible. There was something in the way he grinned at her; it made his mustache lift into a smile that showed more teeth than she felt comfortable with.

This day probably was a busy day for Charon, because the time was well past evening when he finally spoke to her. Leena was most likely keeping him on a short leash again. Anja had retired to her cabin when his rough voice filled her head. The sun had begun to set outside.

_“Hey,”_ he said, slightly hesitant, almost asking for her permission to speak. Anja laid on her back on the cot, looking up at the ceiling and feeling the ferry’s soft swaying movements rock her body gently.

“Hey,” she responded, her voice hushed and slightly hoarse. “Busy day?”

_“Yeah. Leena is learning how to maneuver a power armor.”_

“And you have to be there for that?” She couldn’t help the slightly accusatory tone in her voice.

_“I…”_ he paused, weighing his words carefully. _“I am to assist in the final push to take back the Jefferson Memorial from the Enclave.”_

Anja scowled. “You mean, Leena has ordered you to help her. Again.”

She could hear him sigh. A deep and tired kind of sigh, and her conscience clawed at her. _“Anja…”_ his voice held a quiet plea.

“I know, I’m sorry. I just… This is-“

_“-Hard,”_ he finished for her. _“I know.”_

The ferry swayed a little harder, making a few loose items roll from one side of the floor to the other. Anja involuntarily glanced towards them, and it caught Charon’s attention. She immediately felt the foreboding chill coming from him when he understood she was not in the library.

_“Mind telling me where you are?”_ His voice was firm.

Anja pulled the hair away from her face and gazed up at the ceiling again. “On a boat. Going away.” Her eyes filled with tears, unbidden and sudden. It was easier to be honest and vulnerable when she was far away from him. “I need to do something, and I need to be somewhere that’s not _there_. I can’t stay there while she bosses you around like a dog. I… Don’t ask me to do that.”

His response was slow and slightly edged. _“But you expect me to stay here and watch while you run off into god knows where? Somewhere I can’t follow.”_

“I’ve never expected anything from you Charon. Not ever.” The tears in her eyes escaped to trail down her temples. She wiped them away.

He fell silent a long time. Anja almost thought he’d retreated from the bond, but then she felt something graze her skin. It felt like a large hand touching the scarred side of her face with gentle fingers. She exhaled and almost laughed.

“That’s a little creepy you know.”

The faint pressure intensified until she could feel him cup her cheek fully. She lifted her hand, wanting to reach out and do the same for him. Instead, she placed her hand on her cheek and imagined she’d place it on top of his if he’d been there and it had been real.

“What will anyone see if they walk in on you now?” she asked, imagining what he looked like in that moment.

A slight laughter shook his voice when he spoke. _“A foolish old ghoul, cupping his own cheek and smiling to himself.”_

She smiled as well, although it was a sad smile. He hadn’t touched her like that in real life. Not once. “Point Lookout,” she offered. “I caught a ferry not far from the Arlington Library.”

_“Will you be back?”_ His thumb moved to graze her lower lip gently. Even though the touch wasn’t even real, it still sent a thrill down her spine and made her breath hitch a little.

“I will, Charon. I’ll be back.”

Relief trickled into her. Anja knew it was their bond that made him worry, but somehow it still warmed her inside. It was a strange contrast to how he’d behaved recently. He’d barely acknowledged her presence, sometimes avoiding her altogether. When she’d left them for the library, he’d just stood there, watching her with a detached face that revealed no emotion at all. And it had been shockingly painful.

_“Be careful Anja,”_ his rough voice interrupted her thoughts. _“I’ve heard strange things about that place. The people there… they’re not right.”_ His touch on her cheek loosened, and Anja already missed it. She promised she’d be careful, and he promised to keep checking in with her whenever he could. No matter how angry she was, she knew none of it was his fault.

Her ugly conscience whispered to her that even though she knew it wasn’t Charon’s fault, she was still punishing him for it.

…

 

Charon didn’t knock when he barged into Leena’s room, fuming by rage. She startled into a jump and cast one look at him, and then paled.

“Did you know?” the ghoul growled, stepping further into the room, slowly cornering the human.

“K-know what?” his employer stuttered, dark eyes wide and concerned. “Charon, stop!” she eventually shrieked when he’d come within range of grabbing her.

The large ghoul obediently stopped, but he kept his furious gaze leveled on her when she quickly hurried out of his range. “Did you know Anja was planning to leave the Capital?” he slowly tightened and loosened his fists.

Leena’s already frightened face paled even further, and she gaped at him. “Did I..? What? She’s leaving?”

“Already has,” he confirmed with a nod, assessing her face and seeing that _no_ , Leena hadn’t known about it. “She left early this morning.”

“Why would she do that?”

The large ghoul didn’t answer. The question was easy for him to dodge, because despite Anja being his soulmate, he could never know the full reasons behind her actions. Besides, he feared that if he opened his mouth, a lot of unkind and unforgettable words would leave him. And even though Leena hadn’t given him reason to fear her, he didn’t need another employer who hated him. That never turned out well.

“Where did she go?” she asked, frowning.

“Point Lookout,” He relaxed his stance just a little, exhaling slowly. “She caught a ride with a ferry.”

“From where?”

“Not far from Arlington Library.”

“Okay,” Leena nodded, also exhaling and relaxing a little. “Okay. So, that’s why she asked to go there in the first place. Trust me Charon, I didn’t know about this.”

Charon shook his head, feeling all the rage and his increased resistance towards the contract build up inside him, knowing he had no way of releasing it in a constructive way. He had kept himself in check, managed to not freak out Anja with his anger. But this was rapidly wearing him down.

When Leena spoke again, she asked him the one and only question he didn’t want her to ask. Because Leena was just so fucking helpful, she’d unknowingly command him to do it. But her command would be twisted and wrong, given with her own interests in mind. And Anja would only see the command, and she would hate him for it.

“I’ll help if I can. What do you want to do about it?”

Clenching his teeth, Charon gave her a hard look.

…

 

Anja hadn’t had the slightest idea of what to expect when she got off the ferry at the docks of Point Lookout. It was in the afternoon the day after her departure from the Capital, the sun already starting its descend on the sky.

Ferryman Tobar was only somewhat helpful. When they arrived at the docks, Tobar explained to her a few of the most important sights she might want to see. They’d noticed a mansion up on a hill that looked like it was on fire, and he shrugged when he said it was the old Calvert Mansion. According to him, it was nothing much, but the way he said it, emphasizing all the unknown treasures the estate might hold, Anja was certain he was hiding something. She’d already told him she was a scavenger, and he used those exact words when he so excruciatingly subtly suggested she go there.

Other than that, he also told her where to find supplies, and where to find a bed to sleep in. Although, he was fair enough to warn her about the lice living in the motel’s beds.

…

 

_“Making friends already?”_ Charon growled in her head while she took cover behind a toppled table.

“Shut up,” she growled back, reloading her newly acquired assault rifle hastily. As it turned out, the Calvert Mansion as _anything but_ abandoned. In fact, it was being invaded. And she’d just been rather reluctantly recruited by an old ghoul to help liberate it. She’d moved through the hallways with measured steps, aiming her assault rifle at anything that moved. But the Tribals attacking her must’ve been high on something, because they sure as fuck were hard to kill.

She glanced out from her cover, and then propped up to take a few shots. There was one Tribal left, a man with a shotgun. Double barrel, high impact shells. Lethal. The bullets tore off pieces of wood from the table by each hit. She shot him in the head, once, twice, three times, counting her clip.

Charon had the decency to be quiet while she shot. The Tribal finally went down, after taking six bullets in the head. _“Shit,”_ he commented slowly. 

“Oh yeah?” she panted, standing up from her cover, chuckling slightly as she brushed dust and splinters of wood out of her hair. “That’s all you have to say? No ‘I told you so’ or any other snide remarks about me being here in the first place?” Stumbling a little, she headed towards the room the Tribals had burst into. The one she’d been forced to retreat from just as quickly. She glanced up at the ceiling, inspecting the gaping hole they’d fallen from. It was suspiciously round, purposely cut. “They came down through there.”

_“Really?”_ he sounded surprised. _“Shit…”_

“Wow, you’re eloquent today,” Anja laughed a little, and then she frowned. “Something on your mind?”

_“I can see you’re busy, so no. Nothing on my mind right now.”_

“Okay, good. Cause I can hear more of them coming.” She quickly reloaded her assault rifle again, and then darted into the hallway where the noise was coming from.

The Tribals were by far the toughest human enemies she had ever fought before. Even with no armor, the damage they took would give a super mutant a run for his money. And they were crazy to boot as well. They came at her in waves, always three or four or five, some armed with guns, others with knives or axes, pushing Anja to her limits. They came bursting through the walls, ceilings and floors, and they kept attacking no matter how much Anja’s bullets crippled their limbs. Her only option was to aim for their heads, but still they just _kept coming_. They still attacked.

Charon stayed with her the whole time. He warned her when he caught something in her vision she didn’t see, mostly because she had her attention elsewhere. Even if she wanted to shout at him to shut up and let her do this, she was grateful he was there. More than once was he able to warn her that she was being flanked before she even noticed the fact herself.

“Who the fuck brings knives to a gun fight anyway!?” she exploded in anger, pulling a knife out from her shoulder. The knife’s owner was dead at her feet, but only because Anja had gone into a frenzy and emptied an entire clip into his chest.

_“Hey,”_ Charon’s voice said slowly, worried. _“That’s a lot of blood, Anja. Got some stimpaks on you?”_

“Sure.” He was right, she was bleeding everywhere, and she was beginning to feel a little lightheaded too. Usually not a good sign. Truth was, she’d received more stab-wounds during the past hour than she had her entire life. Although that wasn’t saying much. Most people wouldn’t bring knifes into a gun fight.

Except these crazy Tribals.

Taking a moment to breathe and administer the stimpak, she sat down on a chair. The stim began working immediately, stopping the bleeding and knitting her muscles and skin back together. She administered another one, and then gazed at the room she was in.

“Huh. So, I guess this is how rich folks lived back before the war?” The room was luxuriously furnished with delicate ornaments and furniture. Heavy and pristine looking curtains hang from the ceiling on each side of the large windows. Even the candleholders looked heavy and polished. Thick and intricately woven carpets laid on the floors, now grossly stained with blood and gore.

_“I wouldn’t really know.”_

Taking a few more deep and slow breaths, Anja looked down on herself. “Okay, I’ve stopped bleeding. I’m good.” She rose and leveled her assault rifle once again.

After another, equally tough fight, she found the breach the Tribals were coming from. When she shot a gas container to seal the breach, she rendezvoused with the ghoul Desmond. But then he kept pushing her further. East wing, he ordered. Anja didn’t find an opening to protest or ask questions, and suddenly he’d disappeared again. Anger rolled into her, and she understood it was Charon’s.

“I know,” she muttered under her breath, aiming her gun and stepping through a door. “I’ll corner him eventually.”

The corridor ahead was blocked by dressers, tables and desks. Anja held her gun ready and paused cautiously, eyeing for a way around. Suddenly a female Tribal dashed past her on the other side of the blockage. Out of mere instinct, Anja quickly stepped forward into the corridor, ready to shoot the female. But she was already gone.

And then the floor under her feet creaked.

_“Move!”_ Charon barked, but it was too late.

A surprised shriek escaped her when she felt the floor collapse and give way under her, the highly unpleasant feeling of freefall making her stomach lurch. The impact of the floor below hit her hard, knocking all air out of her lungs. She landed on her side, still clutching her gun, blinking sluggishly up at the hole she’d just fallen thorough. Something in her stomach hurt, a lot, and she groaned.

_“Fuck. You’re-”_ Charon’s slight panic was cut short.

Again, the floor collapsed under her, and again, Anja fell. She screamed this time, and when she hit the ground another time, she silenced too quickly and laid completely still, debris still falling around her.

…

 

Charon had been pacing in his room during Anja’s firefight through the old mansion. He barked a few warnings here and there, giving her sharp commands when she misplaced her focus. She was losing a lot of blood and her vision was blurring. When she was stabbed deep in the shoulder, his agitated alarm seeped unintentionally into her, but it had a surprisingly effective result. Granted, she spent a lot more bullets that necessary, but it got the job done.

When she took a moment to heal, he calmed himself. He wasn’t being useful if he kept leaking his worry into her. But the truth was, he was horrified. He’d never seen humans take so much damage before. Not even raiders high on every chemical substance one could think of. These Tribals were a whole new kind of crazy, and his soulmate was stuck in the middle of it.

When she continued her trek, he was calmer.

But then she met up with this Desmond, and Charon’s anger flared again. Anja tried to calm him, and although he appreciated her efforts, it wasn’t helping. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

He felt it deep in his abdomen when she fell through the floor. The sharp and hard pain in her stomach pierced his as well, and he stumbled backwards with a grunt, momentarily put back by the pain. Instinctively, he grabbed at the painful area, looking down on himself. But he wasn’t hurt. She was.

“Fuck. You’re-” He gasped and recoiled when she fell again. His vision through hers was completely distorting and ruining his balance, and he fell sideways over a chair.

Suddenly, two things happened at once. Someone burst through the door to his room, several people stormed inside. But Charon wasn’t seeing them. His vision was seeing Anja’s when she hit the ground hard, making another burst of pain ripple through her and flow into him. Her sharp scream was abruptly cut short and she blinked. Her vision was clouded, eyelids heavy and closing slowly. She laid still. So still he could barely feel her breathe.

“Charon?” Leena’s voice asked warily. His employer stepped into the room, her approach cautious and slow, holding a hand apprehensively out at him. Several armed Brotherhood soldiers was with her, all of them eyeing him as if he’d gone feral.

Right. Someone must’ve heard him and alerted her.

Collecting himself, Charon rose from the floor, seeing that his full height had more than one Brotherhood soldier take a step backwards. The only one who stepped further towards him was Leena. Her dark eyes were big with worry.

“What’s going on?”

“Anja’s hurt.” He groaned and still felt the throbbing pain of the foreign object lodged into her stomach come through their bond. That was good. That pain meant she was still conscious. Adrenaline was a wonderful drug like that.

Leena stepped closer to him, eyebrows knitting. “How bad? Maybe I can help.”

“Foreign object,” he rasped. His vision focused back to Anja. Just vaguely did he see his employer wave the Brotherhood soldiers out of the room. All but one left. Reaching through the bond, he steeled himself for the pain. “Come on Anja. I know you can hear me.”

She didn’t respond. Laying perfectly still, she blinked slowly and breathed shallowly. The pain was intense, piercing into her stomach, deep from the back of her side. He trailed the area on himself, finding the spot, and shifted to look at his employer next to him.

“Here. Something big.”

Leena nodded. “Okay, that’s where her kidney and intestines are. She might be okay for now, but once she removes the object, it’s important she uses a stimpak quickly. If her intestinal organs begin to leak into her abdomen, she’ll go into septic shock and die.”

Charon focused back to Anja, trying to urge her to respond. But she didn’t. She was about to slip away too, he could feel it in the way their bond was beginning to thin. He reached down himself, fingers gripping the fabric of his pants on the inside if his thigh. Catching a small piece of flesh through the fabric, he grabbed it between his thumb and finger, and then pinched himself hard.

It worked. Anja gasped and shrieked hoarsely, blinking several times. _“Fuck! Ouch!”_

“That was nothing. Now get up and find your stimpaks.”

She did as he said and rolled a little to her side, finding the stimpaks in her belt. Scooting to sit upright, she edged herself backwards until she could lean her shoulder against the wall behind her. Her breaths were trained and controlled when she inspected the origin of the pain. Gentle fingers grazed the object, feeling wood and sleek blood.

“You need to remove it, Anja,” Charon said firmly when her hand retreated from the thing. “There’s no way around it.”

_“I don’t know if I can reach it. Its angle is all wrong,”_ her voice was shaking now.

“You have to. There’s no options. You’re alone, and you’re not getting any help anytime soon.” He’d taken to pacing again, and finally he saw who the last person in the room with him was. The one who hadn’t left along with the soldiers. Scribe Rothchild.

The bald man was observing Charon with a scientist’s interest, a slightly sensational expression on his face. Charon gave him a quick glare that shortly after moved over to his employer. He was under her command, but she hadn’t commanded him to tolerate this man’s presence. He was just about to give the man’s ass a taste of his boot when Anja’s sharp and painful inhale of breath caught his attention.

“What are you doing?”

_“Pulling the splinter out?”_ she’d reached as far as she could to the back of her side, trying to pull the piece of wood out, backwards.

“Where’s your stimpak?”

She looked down at it, lying ready on the floor next to her.

“Okay, good. You need to be quick once the splinter is out. It’s big, and it’s going to make you bleed a lot.”

_“Uh-huh?”_

He paused, suddenly feeling strange. Her heart began racing and she felt weak. She was running out of time. “Anja?” His voice was hard.

_“I know!”_ she snapped back at him, voice slurry. Her grasp tightened on the exposed end of the splinter, and then she pulled. Her grip was slipping on the blood, her body almost clinging to the piece of wood as if it was a new part of her.

“Pull it harder,” Charon growled between his teeth, feeling the pain she was in, knowing she’d pass out soon if she didn’t hurry this up.

Anja shifted her grip a little and pulled, this time firmly. Slowly, her body gave up the splinter, and once she’d gotten the thickest part out, the rest of it followed. She was howling in pain, clenching her teeth and hyperventilating, but she got it out. Pulling the bloody thing in front of her, she threw it away and immediately grabbed the stimpak. Her hands were shaking so hard she dropped it to the floor on her first attempt at administrating it. Picking it up again, she lifted her shirt and tried to reach as close to the wound as possible.

Charon barely felt the needle pierce her skin, the small prickle just a drop in the ocean of pain she was already in. At first, he thought she’d missed or dropped the stimpak again. But then her skin began to tighten, and her muscles straightened back to their intended position. He exhaled in relief.

“Okay good. Now breathe. You’ll be fine. You did good.”

Anja didn’t respond. Shooting up another stimpak, she leaned back to the wall and closed her eyes, steadying her breaths while her body repaired. Charon straightened the chair he’d stumbled over and sat down on it, taking a moment to breathe as well.

“She’s okay?” Leena asked, looking intensely at him. Her face was ashen gray, worry giving her a look of someone older than she was.

“She’ll be fine. Just need to rest a couple of minutes.”

Scribe Rothchild stepped forward, hands linked behind his back. “I must say, that was some show. I mean, I’ve heard of this phenomenon about soulmates sharing experiences, but I’ve yet to witness it firsthand. Marvelous! Imagine the potential.”

Charon leveled a dangerous pair of eyes on the man. “Show?”

A quick expression of unease caressed Rothchild’s face, but it vanished almost just as quickly. His eyes moved over to Leena. “My dear, would you be so kind and consider leaving Charon here in the Brotherhood’s employment?”

Charon felt his heart sink deep and ice flow into his veins, but Leena was quick to still his fear. She eyed the Head Scribe with obvious distaste and her voice dripped of chilled venom. “I would not. Now, unless you have any other reason for being in my friend’s private quarters, I suggest you leave.”

Scribe Rothchild didn’t say anything when he left the room. He remained professional and gave her an affirmative nod. A gesture he didn’t extend to Charon, however. And then he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

“Thank you,” Charon said and eyed his employer.

She smiled back tentatively. “I’d never sell your contract. And least of all to someone like him.”

His gut clenched again, twisting and rolling uncomfortably around until it formed a tight knot of unreleased anger and tension. He wanted to destroy something, wreak havoc in this place and make them all see he wasn’t a good slave to keep around. But he didn’t. Charon never rebelled, never disobeyed. He accepted his orders, and he followed command without question and hesitation. It was what he was trained to do, what he’d been made for. Thinking otherwise was just torturing himself.

And Anja. It was torturing her as well.

“I know we had an agreement, Charon,” Leena said slowly, looking apprehensively at him. “But are you sure about this?”

He shook his head. No.

…

 

Back at the motel, late that night, Anja was surprised and delighted to discover that the plumbing in the motel was still functional. After she’d washed herself up, she ignored the ferryman’s warning of lice and crawled into the king-sized bed with a sigh. Her muscles were screaming from exhaustion, but that was the only pain she could feel. Everything else had been stimpaked away hours ago.

Desmond wanted her to infiltrate the Tribals’ community, and somehow, Anja had agreed to help him. Why she’d done that baffled even herself. The old ghoul was not only full of himself, he was rude, bordering on cruel. It was obvious he considered Anja far below him in everything, even though she had saved his ass _and_ the mansion from the Tribals. But when she pointed that out to him, he barked a laugh and mentioned some failsafe and a saferoom. She was only useful to him because he needed her to infiltrate the Tribals.

She did, however, have a presence of mind enough to ask about the missing girl, Nadine. Desmond rather spitefully informed her that he didn’t know anything about any Nadine, but he had seen a girl snoop around the area a while back.

Tucking herself under a makeshift blanket, Anja rolled to her side and faced the door. She’d locked it tightly and pushed the dresser in front of it, but she would still sleep with one eye open. Far down the road from here, far off in the distance, she’d spotted a humanoid figure that looked far too big to be normal. Either this place had super mutants too, or there was something else lurking in the swamps.

Desmond had given her a map of the area and marked the location she needed to find the next day; an old cathedral where the Tribals had their main base.

“Charon? Are you there?” she asked, trying to reach through their bond to find him. It was like that muscle Leena had talked about. She only managed to tug at his attention, and even though it was still weak, it was enough for him to reach for her back.

_“I’m here,”_ came his response after a few seconds.

She smiled. “Were you already looking?”

_“I was,”_ he admitted. _“But you’re getting better at it.”_

“You’re not worried that I might be watching you in private moments?” Slightly ashamed of herself and what she was implying, Anja blushed.

_“No. I’m glad you’ll be able to call on my attention when you need it.”_ His voice was calm and quiet, but there was tension seeping into her from their bond. Something was troubling him.

“Earlier today,” she began, hesitant. “You had something on your mind. But as you know, I was busy.”

_“I remember.”_ Dammit, why did he sound so dismissive? Anja tensed.

“Well,” she inquired, tracing a finger up and down her arm absentmindedly, slowly reenacting the only caress Charon had ever given her. “I’m not busy now…”

Charon waited a long time to answer, and when he finally did, his voice shook a little. _“Please come home.”_

Anja frowned. “Why, what’s going on?”

_“They’re about to push for the Lincoln Memorial soon. Within days. I…”_ he paused. She could feel frustration coming from him. _“I need you to be here.”_

“No, you don’t.” She stopped stroking her own arm and sat up.

_“Yes, I do,”_ his tone was serious and insistent. _“You almost died today, can’t you see how that affects me? I’m worried about you.”_ The words would have been endearing, if it wasn’t for the fact that his voice was hard and almost growling.

“Worried about me?!” Anja spat back at him. She moved off the bed and paced a few steps. “ _I_ worry about _you_ , but you don’t care. So why the fuck should I?!”

She could feel Charon’s frustration grow, spreading and heating inside her until it suddenly burst.

_“I care!”_ he roared. His anger was sharp and powerful, and it had Anja pause her pacing, staggering to gain control of herself. _“I care about every fucking thing you do, and even what you don’t. But that’s all I’m ever allowed to do! You’re behaving unreasonable! You almost got yourself killed today, and for what?”_

It was a hot, vibrating and intense kind of anger, one that had her suspect he’d been carrying it around for some time. Allowed it to fester. She fought hard to keep in control of her own emotions but failed miserably.

“Stop it!” she shouted. Caught within his rage, she blindly grabbed a glass from the table and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall on the other side and shattered in a thousand pieces. “I won’t let you bully me like this!”

Charon’s anger receded a little, leaving behind the sharp sting from a burn. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer, but firm and unapologetic. _“You may not care what happens to you, but I do.”_

“You only care about what Leena tells you to care about.” Wow, that was below the belt. Anja heard it in her own voice, and she felt it through their bond. She’d just wounded him. She knew damn well that Charon had no say in matters regarding his contract. She knew that so damn well, and still she made those word come out as an accusation towards him. It sounded like jealousy, and it was an ugly thing.

_“You’re doing this because you think I don’t care?”_ His question was slow and measured, and she could hear by his tone that he was keeping his temper in check.

Anja sat down on the bed, still shaking from his rage. Her frown wandered town to her bare thighs. Her skin didn’t scar easily, but she still had quite a few spots and lines that were brighter than her natural tan. Her scars were proof she’d handled shit before, and she’d do it again. She didn’t respond, but her feelings must have betrayed her, because suddenly Charon sent comfort through to her.

But then his next words sent a cold chill down her spine. _“Leena wants me to find you.”_

“Don’t you dare,” she warned. “You tell Leena that from me; don’t you fucking dare.”

_“I wanted you to have the opportunity to come back on your own.”_ He spoke without conviction, as if he’d already known she’d refuse.

“Charon,” she offered, almost pleading. “Are you aware just how afraid Leena is of you?”

_“Yes.”_

“Then tell her to leave you behind. She has the entire Brotherhood at her back now. She doesn’t really _need_ you to be there as well.”

_“It’s not me she worries about, Anja.”_

“Bullshit!” Anja barked. “She only worries for me because it takes your attention away from her.”

“ _So, now you admit you know how your behavior affects me?”_

Anja cursed inwardly. For someone who’d spent years in a corner, keeping silent, he sure as hell knew how to turn her own words against her. “Will you at least promise me that you try to make her reconsider? I really don’t want to be running away from you.”

_“Isn’t that what you did when you left the Citadel? When you went there, to Point Lookout? Running?”_

“Oh, come on,” Anja groaned in exasperation. “Now you’re just picking fights with me. Stop it.”

_“I’m sorry,”_ he apologized quietly after several heartbeats. _“I’m not trying to fight with you Anja. I just want you to be safe.”_

“Promise me you’ll try. Try to hold her off me if you can.”

There was a long pause of silence. Anja felt him reach for her face, gently cupping her scarred side. She closed her eyes, imagining him there. Imagining that she could feel his breath on her face, that his calloused thumb was truly there, tracing the line of her scar down her cheek. She wanted to lean into the hand but doing so would result in meeting nothing but empty air. That’s what they were; bonded through minds and bodies, but with nothing but empty air and vast distances between them.

And contrary to what she had thought, the distance was hurting them both.

_“I promise I’ll try,”_ Charon rasped after a while. She heard pain in his voice.


	21. Chapter 21

**Living Nightmares**

 

Leena walked over to him on the catwalk overlooking Liberty Prime. He was staring down at the assembly teams and the technicians with a frown, his expression hard and leaning towards angry. His scarred knuckles were pale where he gripped the railing. Leena leaned on the railing next to him, resting her elbows on it and glancing up at him.

“What did she say?”

Down below them, Scribe Rothchild was having an argument with someone regarding Liberty Prime’s combat readiness. The Head Scribe was trying to have the team postpone activating the giant robot. It would take at least a month just to calibrate the robot’s weapons. And even longer to program, install, test and implement a proper navigation system.

Charon didn’t like the Head Scribe very much, but right now he wished everyone would just stop and listen to the man. He was their top scientist and researcher, after all.

“What do you think she said?” he grumbled, tightening his knuckles a little, not looking at her.

“I think she told you to go fuck yourself.”

Her response had him grin despite himself. “Not in those words exactly.”

“Really?” Leena chuckled. “Wow, she’s learned some manners then.”

Charon exhaled some of the tension in his shoulders and loosened his grip on the railing. He turned slightly towards his employer. “Do you know how powerful you are?”

Her dark eyes wavered a little. “What do you mean?”

His voice was rough when he spoke, slowly to make sure she understood. “You have the entire Brotherhood of Steel at your disposal. Sara Lyons herself would follow you unflinching into battle. There’s a _super mutant_ waiting outside the gates for you. You’ve helped everyone we’ve met. There’s not a single settlement that we’ve passed who doesn’t owe you something. You have me,” he tilted his head forward a little, “at your beck and call. And because of that, you’re taking away another woman’s freedom.”

“How can you say that? Anja hasn’t ever done anything that didn’t suit her needs,” Leena frowned, shaking her head. “Don’t get me wrong. You know I adore Anja. I’ve always admired that battle-scarred and hardened woman for her resilience. I envy her integrity; how she never allows herself to be manipulated into doing other people’s dirty work for them. But she’s a wastelander, Charon. She’s only looking out for herself. How can you say I’m taking her freedom away?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Charon’s voice sounded like gravel underneath hard boots, and Leena visibly cringed. He narrowed his eyes a little when he continued. “She’s fled the Capital because of us. Because of your power over me. If you order me to retrieve her, you know I will. But be very careful about doing so.”

“Are you threatening me Charon?” Her smooth and unscarred face twisted in a slight anxiety.

“Maybe. Anja will hate us both for it. I may not have free will, but she does. Think hard about that for a second. Could you live with your own soulmate hating you?”

She frowned. Charon could see that his words were getting to her, that her resolve was faltering and crumbling. Even though he despised Leena as his employer, he also respected her and her good deeds. He truly did. But she had one great weakness; she always thought she knew what was best for people.

He had never been good at this, talking and manipulation. He’d been created for battle, for fighting and following orders. But he recognized a crumbling determination when he saw one, and he went for the kill.

“Why am I still here, and not out retrieving Anja?”

Her head snapped up to look at him. “You asked me to stay out of it. Because you wanted to give her a chance at returning on her own will.”

“And your first gut instinct told you that she would?”

“N-no. I knew she’d refuse.”

“Then why am I here?” he repeated harder.

“I…” her smooth face twisted slightly in uncertainty. “I need you here.”

“No, you don’t.”

Leena exhaled. “You’re right, Charon. I’m not stupid. I know your situation is painful to her. I know she’ll hate it if you drag her back here, kicking and screaming. So, what am I supposed to do? She’s my friend. She’s your soulmate. And she’s in danger. I know only one way to help her, but I’m not sure she’ll accept it.”

With those cryptical words, she lifted a shaking hand to her inner pocket. At the sight of the white paper she retrieved, he took an immediate and quick step away, eyeing the paper. Leena shook her head, and with a worried expression, she showed him what it was; an envelope. It was sealed shut and had Leena’s handwriting on it; _Dear Anja. Open upon receival._

“I have prepared this for her. It’s a letter, where I try to explain everything.” She held the envelope out to him, waiting for him to take it.

Charon took it hesitantly, distrustful, expecting pain. But his head didn’t hurt when he took it.

“Protect it. It’s very important that she gets this.”

Turning the envelope in his hand, Charon frowned. “Is that an order?”

Leena smiled, but it was timid and careful. “It is.”

He tucked the envelope safely into his armor, hiding it underneath the thick leather, resting snugly against his ruined skin. It could be something dearly important to him inside that envelope, but it could also be just what she said; a letter. No matter what it was, it belonged to Anja.

His eyes slowly lifted to meet Leena’s darkened gaze. She looked scared, even though she was, by all accounts, still his employer. He knew she was about to order him to do exactly what Anja didn’t want them to do. The only thing he could hope for, was that Anja would forgive them.

Giving Leena a slow nod, he watched as the palatable tension flowed out of her, and she exhaled as if she’d held her breath. She stepped back, away from him.

“Now go, Charon. I am hereby ordering you to disregard your concern for my safety and go find your soulmate.”

Charon couldn’t help but notice she said _find her_ , but not _bring her back_.

…

 

Anja hunched down in the swamp, holding her gun firmly and tracking a creature she’d never seen before. It looked a little bit like a Mirelurk King, but different. Its colors were more green than blue, and its eyes were a startling glowing yellow. It had dense shells on its arms, and when it dived underwater in the thick swamp, Anja understood why. The swamp was muddy, making maneuvering less effective unless the creature had developed thicker swimming shells to compensate. It flowed through the swamp as easily like a fish in clean water, and its movements would have been mesmerizing to watch, if it wasn’t hunting her.

She didn’t dare move out of fear the creature might sense the disturbance in the water.

This place… was hell. The swamp was foggy, muddy, altering between too cold or too hot. Never something in between. Bloatflies were everywhere. It reeked of rotten organic material and methane gas, the smell almost choking her. The other areas she’d visited weren’t any better though. The inbreeded locals were hostile as fuck and even harder to kill than the Tribals. Anja had managed to avoid most of them after her first confrontation, but they were sneaky and sometimes appeared out of nowhere, right beside her.

Trackers were the worst. She’d soon enough learned it was the silhouette of a Tracker she’d seen from a distance that nigh she slept in the motel. They were overgrown, tall and broad, arms bulging with muscles that looked like they had twisted painfully into their current position. Like a cramp that never released its hold. The skin on their faces were soggy, also twisted and skewed, as if it had melted halfway off their faces and just paused there. They were relentless hunters, chasing her for hours if they caught sight of her, and they could take a hell of damage before they even began to show any signs of pain.

Anja had half a mind to give the ghoul Desmond right; Point Lookout was a shithole.

Focusing on the swamp-creature ahead of her, Anja took a few steadying breaths and aimed her gun. She fired in bursts, hitting the creature’s head with several bullets in short succession. The creature rose to its feet, a clicking and slightly roaring sound coming from its gills. She fired again, but this time also rose to stand to get a better view.

The creature died, sinking slowly to its knees and then into the muddy swamp. Bubbles appeared where it sank, revealing that the swamp was a lot deeper than it looked. Reloading the gun, Anja continued her crawl towards her goal.

When she’d approached the cathedral the Tribals held as their base, a man she hadn’t met but only spoken to through an intercom demanded that she proved herself worthy to join them. He made it sound simple. All she needed to do was go into this cave, wade through a sacred stinky bog, kill some creatures, and then pick the seeds off from some holy Mother Punga plant that grew deep inside the bog. It sounded easy enough, and Anja hadn’t met any trouble so far that she couldn’t handle with a shrug.

In fact, getting to the bog had been more trouble. Much thanks to the local Swampfolk.

Charon spoke to her every now and then, and she’d been quick and quiet when she explained to him what she was doing and why. She knew he didn’t like it, but he kept his disagreeing comments to himself, and he hadn’t mentioned their previous conversation. Anja wasn’t sure he was watching her the entire time, but he answered every time she whispered a question.

His responses were short though, clipped and precise.

Wading through what she assumed to be the final part of the bog, seeing more and more of the small Punga plants around, her ghoul soulmate surprised her with a strange request.

_“Hey, hold on a second.”_

She stopped her movements and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

_“Do me a favor. Tell me to stop.”_

“What?” Anja chuckled a little warily. “Why? What’s wrong with you today?”

_“Just do it.”_

“Uhm.. okay. Stop.” She waited, biting her lip and looking around at nothing in particular.

_“Hmmm,”_ he was mumbling something incomprehensible. He sounded almost out of breath, as if he was running.

Anja tilted her head. His grumbles reverberating inside her ears, making them hurt a little. “What was that? Charon you’re really getting me worried here.”

_“It was nothing.”_

“Okaaay, I’ll just leave you to it then,” she rolled her eyes and continued forward, finally stepping out of the muddy swamp and onto solid ground.

The trail she was following led her up and towards a small clearing full of more Punga plants and already lit torches. In the middle of the cluster of plants was a larger plant, and she approached it with careful steps. The plant was bigger than her by twice her size, and it resembled a brown root that had risen from the ground a long time ago. She circled it, considering her options. Seeds hung from the middle of the plant’s underside, their purple color was deep and vibrant, as well as the green leaves on its stalks.

Anja reached her gloved hand up, stretching to her toes to grab hold of one of the seeds. Then there was a sudden sound of a puff of air coming out from somewhere, and she startled.

_“What was that?”_

Anja coughed and released the seed, falling backwards away from the plant. The air suddenly had a sickly green color. “Charon?” she asked, feeling a slight panic when her limbs wouldn’t listen and pull her up to her feet again.

_“What? What’s happening?”_

She coughed again, feeling her vision darken, everything fading away. She was spinning, the world was spinning.

_“Anja?!”_ his voice was urgent and hard, trying to reach through to her.

She closed her eyes hard to blink the dizziness and darkness away. Her body became limp and unresponisve, and for a short moment, she thought she fell asleep.

“Charon?” Opening her eyes again, she shook her head and rose to her feet, stumbling a little to regain her balance. Everything was swinging uncomfortably for a few seconds, and then it settled. The colors looked different, sharper somehow. “Charon, are you still with me?”

Nothing. No response. Panicked, she tried to reach for him through their bond. “Charon?!” When her soulmate still didn’t respond, she grabbed the fallen seed and stumbled back into the swamp. Her legs moved slower than usual, making the water slosh around her and she waded as quickly as she could.

Something sat on the small island up ahead, and when she approached it, she recognized what it was. A Bobblehead. Just like the ones Leena had collected, only this one was a lot bigger. By the glasses and the scholar hat, she assumed this was the Intelligence Bobblehead. It couldn’t have been there when she arrived, and stumbling out of the water, Anja tried to take the Bobblehead. It immediately disappeared into thin air.

_“Tsk. Tsk. Walked right into another trap. Exactly how stupid are you?”_

Her heart leapt into her throat, and she whirled around. “Eric?!” She hadn’t heard his voice in a long time, but she could’ve sworn it was him. His voice was taunting and malicious, just like he’d been when he had a lesson to teach her. She almost expected punches to follow shortly after, but there was nothing there. No one. The bog behind her was empty, silent except for the constant sound of frogs and grasshoppers filling the air. Wheezing out a terrified breath, she turned back around and kept walking.

She waded on through the water, eyes wide, staring wildly at the shadows.

Then she approached another Bobblehead, neatly propped up on a rock. This one had definitely not been there when she arrived. This one was flexing its muscles proudly, showing its Strength. Approaching it slowly, slightly crouched down and warily, she reached her hand out and touched it. It dissolved into thin air just like the first one. Charon’s voice filled her ears, but just like Eric, he too sounded like he stood right behind her.

_“This is one situation you’re not going to be able to fight your way out of,”_ he said, and his tone was deep and serious and taunting. He laughed, coldly.

“Charon? Please! Are you here?” Anja whirled around several times. She stared into the shadows with big eyes. “Charon?” Again, she tried to reach through their bond. And again, there was no response. The bog was silent.

Her feet ached to run, and Anja stumbled and hurried out of the water, finding land. She kept going, needing to get out of this place as quickly as possible. She ran up a hill, into a narrow passage in some rock-formations. And then she stopped dead in her tracks.

Another Bobblehead, on the ground, practically blocking her way. This one was running. Endurance. Tears filled her eyes, but she still reached out to it, touching it gently, barely brushing it with her fingers. It disappeared just like the others.

_“Keep it up,”_ Leena’s female and soft voice filled her ears, her tone encouraging. _“You’re almost there… Wherever ‘there’ may be… Probably nowhere.”_ She finished with a mocking laugh.

Anja’s tears ran freely, and this time she didn’t bother to turn around. Instead, she bolted into a run. She kept trying and failing to connect with Charon while she ran, begging him, pleading that he would feel her distress. But no response came, and she was alone.

Then her head suddenly exploded in pain, and she stumbled forward, rolling around as she clutched her head. The sound of sawing grind itself into her ears, making her head thunder and throb until she thought her head really was going to explode.

She screamed, loudly and terrified, when she saw a transparent and gigantic red saw cut into the very ground she walked on. Staggering to her feet, she kept clutching her aching head and ran.

But the saw followed, it arched around, blocking her path. The sawing up and down continued to throb and rumble in her ears. It felt like her brain was vibrating and expanding, her skull too tight to fit it anymore. Anja screamed again and fell to her knees, leaning forward as she kept clutching her head between her hands. It was as if her hands were the only thing keeping her head in one piece, preventing it from spitting open.

And just as suddenly as it had begun, the sawing stopped. The pain withdrew.

Anja didn’t waste her time on catching her breath. She wanted out of there, _now_. Rising to her feet, she ran. Small explosions followed her as she sprinted through the bog. Large bottles of Nuka Cola fell to the ground all around her, causing tiny little mushroom clouds as they exploded on impact with the ground. Each explosion was followed with a child’s cry, and Anja recognized it. They were her own cries, muffled and restrained and slightly fearful every time Eric had hit her. He called it toughening. It was only the first 17 000 times that hurt.

Somewhere in the shadows, feral ghouls began hissing at her, all around her, scaring her into running even faster. She heard their footsteps behind her, taking up the chase.

Her eyes caught sight of another Bobblehead. Standing on a rock and balancing on one hand only. Agility. Scared and angry, Anja didn’t stop to touch it. Instead she kicked at it hard while she sprinted past it, knocking it over. It vanished before it hit the ground.

Charon filled her ears again, venom dripping from his voice. _“Isn’t it funny how everything you get close to ends up leaving?”_  

She wailed and ran faster, screaming back at Charon. “Stop this! Please just stop this!” But he didn’t answer. Her soulmate had left, and he wasn’t responding to her pleas anymore.

The trail led her up another hill, illuminated by several torches and those creepy handmade doll-figurines the Swampfolk used to mark their territory with. Anja didn’t care if she ran into any of them at this point, all she wanted was to get away from this place.

She didn’t even notice at first that something looked amiss around her. Her feet rustled when she moved, and she slowed and looked down at the ground. Leaves. Green, healthy looing leaves. And behind the leaves, she saw the white sky. Below her.

The shock had her hurry on her tiptoes over to a tree and grab it, realizing she was seeing everything upside-down. Lifting her gaze, she saw the swampy bog far above her head, the muddy water lying there still and untouched, the darkness gleaning slightly back at her. A disoriented dizziness caught her, and she dashed forward, running again.

Another Bobblehead blocked her way, this one at a normal size. It was hanging from one of the tree branches below her, fastened with a string and hanging out in front of her. It had its hand at his eyebrows, shielding from the sun as he was gazing with sharp eyes at her. Perception? She didn’t care. She tried to run past it, but still, she managed to knock into it with her head, making it disappear.

Leena’s voice came to her, sounding confused and full of distrust. _“This doesn’t look right, not right at all.”_

“No shit,” Anja bit back and kept running, through the stone archway up ahead that looked like it would turn the world right again.

And it did. When Anja passed through the archway, the world was right again. She panted and took a moment to breathe. She understood now that she was hallucinating, but that still didn’t explain why she couldn’t reach out to Charon. As long as she was awake, he should be able to sense her regardless of drugs and hallucinogens.

Her skull prickled, and she caught movement in her peripheral vision. At first, she wasn’t sure what she was looking at. Something silvery and long and thin disappeared into the ground, only to reappear from the ground again a little further away. Something slack and white was pulled behind it, and it sounded like chains when it moved. The silver thing repeated the action, disappearing, and reappearing from the ground, several times over. Her skull prickled and tensed, her skin crawling with uneasiness when she saw the slack white line follow in and out of the ground at the exact spots where the needle had sowed.

Because that’s what she was looking at. A large needle, almost the length of Anja, was sowing the ground up. It was slow and meticulous, keeping at it for a long time. And when it was done, it pulled the full length of the white thread with it, tightening it securely, leaving white stitch marks on the ground.

She hastened away from the sight and hurried onwards, frowning while she avoided stepping on the stiches. But what she saw when she moved her gaze forward had her pause again.

A skeleton propped onto a stretcher. A steady beeping sound said it was alive. Anja could tell from the shape of the skeleton’s hips that it was a woman, and it had long ago begun to dissolve. It was black and dirty, as if someone had recently dug it out of the ground and put it on display for their own amusement. They’d even tried to put a child’s party hat on top of its head and a teddy bear in its hand. Balloons were fastened to either side if the stretcher. A Bobblehead stood between the skeleton’s widespread legs, giving her a cheerful thumbs-up. Charisma.

Anja swallowed and narrowed her eyes, stepping slowly closer to the table. This was just sad. A lump formed at the back of her throat, and she reached her hand out to touch the Bobblehead, watching it slowly disappear into thin air. The beeping sound flatlined.

Eric’s voice filled her ears. He was full of disgust when he spoke. _“Blech. If my kid looked like that, I’d abandon it too.”_

Anja swallowed her tears and stepped away from the sight. She rounded the stretcher in a wide berth, not looking back at the lonely skeleton when she walked away.

She walked down the trail and stepped into the water, walking slowly as corpses began to float up around her. She saw Eric appear from the depth, a bullet-hole in between his eyes. She saw Moira Brown too, and her throat was ripped open by savage fangs. And she saw Leena. Anja stopped to look at Leena. The dark-haired young woman was wearing her Vault suit, her smooth face peaceful and pale. But the gaping hole from a shotgun blast in her chest witnessed how she had died. Anja swallowed and moved forward, wading through the water.

In front of her, another corpse floated up from the depth, lying face down in the water. She didn’t need to see him to know who it was; she recognized his size, his leather armor, and the back of his scarred neck. It was her soulmate. She didn’t touch him, didn’t want to turn him around and see what horrible fate he’d met. Instead, she kept going, fastening her gaze forward.

A shape formed in the fog ahead of her, and she turned her steps towards it. It looked oddly familiar, like the shape of the bomb in the middle of Megaton. When she came closer, she saw that a man in a well-kept suit was leaning on the bomb. But she saw something else too. Another Bobblehead, sitting on the ground right where the water met the dirt. The figure was wearing a hat and holding a four-leaf clover. The Bobblehead of Luck.

Anja touched it without hesitation, knowing there was no escaping it anyway. The figure evaporated.

Charon’s voice again. Spiteful and mean, and utterly devastating. _“Dead mother, life in a post-nuclear Wasteland and not a friend in it. Yeah, you aren’t exactly blessed.”_

“But I had you,” she whispered, tired of it all. She made another, futile attempt at reaching out for him, but he still wasn’t responding. Anja resigned thick a tiny sob and walked over to the waiting man in the suit.

The man smiled at her with sharp features. The smile was cold and insensitive, and he uncrossed his arms. “Congratulations my dear… Looks like you’ll pull through after all.”

Anja backed away from him, frowning. Her head was pounding again, painfully and sharply.

The man held out a hand to stop her. “No, no, don’t try and get up yet. You’ll only hurt..-“

There was a big flash of yellow sharp light, the pain in her head intensified until it grew unbearable. She wasn’t sure she screamed or if it was a pitiful whimper. The light blinded her, and then everything grew dark.

…

 

Charon was walking with long and purposed strides, sometimes running, following the Potomac river south as fast as he could. He’d already been at it for half a day, and he wasn’t about to stop now. He didn’t need sleep anyways, and he could go a long time without food or water. His hazy gray eyes were set hard in concentration, his aim accurate and deadly when he disposed of enemies blocking his way. He didn’t stop to loot their corpses, didn’t pause to check for valuables. The only thing on his mind was to reach his soulmate who’d gone so unnervingly and deathly quiet.

_She’s not dead_ , his thoughts chanted while he ran. She couldn’t be dead. He’d felt it if she had died, and he hadn’t felt anything at all. He’d felt her dizziness when she fell, her confusion. And when he called out to her, she hadn’t responded. And the bond was silent.

It felt cold, like an empty tomb that echoed his attempt to reach out to her. But it didn’t feel like loss, like the all-devouring grief and pain he’d felt when his first soulmate had died, so many years ago. A piece of him wasn’t missing, and that meant Anja was still alive.

While he traveled, his mind continuously and unstoppably tried to feel her through the bond. Whatever had happened, she had to wake up at some point. And if she didn’t, he had to find her and help her out of it. If Charon had learned anything about her during the 20 years she’d lived, it was that she was a fierce little thing, and she was tough as nails.

He couldn’t lose her. Not now, not when he for the first time in her life had her within his grasp. Clenching his jaw, he continued onward. Point Lookout was just half a day away, and he’d be there by sunrise the next morning.

…

 

Anja sat, perched on the wooden planks over the steep and high cliff, overlooking the area below. The planks she sat on reminded her a little of the plank from the old stories of pirate ships, and when she leaned a little forward and gazed down, she suspected these might have had similar use. The cliffs far below her were littered with skeletons, various junk items, a bathtub and a refrigerator, and so much more.

She had done what Desmond had asked of her and infiltrated the Tribals. She had followed their leader Jackson down to his secret cave. She had spied on him while he talked with that blue and glowing orb resembling a brain, and she had talked with both Jackson and the brain. The brain called itself Calvert, and it believed itself to be one of the greatest minds that had ever existed.

She had found the missing girl Nadine as well, and the orange haired girl had been kind enough to explain to a very confused and hurting Anja just exactly what had happened to her.

Her left hand raised, trembling, to the long scar along her scalp. Touching it felt strange, hollow somehow. As if she could _feel_ that a piece of her was missing inside. But she felt fine. Her cognitive functions were returning rapidly, she had no memory loss that she was aware of, and her motor functions were fine. More than fine, actually, because she caught herself reacting a little faster now.

But she’d lost something, in the end. Something she’d never thought she’d truly care about losing, but now that it was gone, everything was agony.

Her bond to Charon was gone.

It was the only explanation. The only reason she could think of, that would leave him completely deaf to her pleas. Because she had pleaded. She’d reached as far she could, stretching her mind so hard until sweat formed on her forehead. She’d try to pull him towards her, like he’d done with her once. But all her mental fingers grasped was darkness.

And it was so lonely she thought she was going to break apart.

“You were right,” he mumbled under her breath, voice shaking. Because she still talked to him. She needed to talk to him, in case he was listening. In case it was her side of the bond that had been ripped so brutally away and not his. “I’ve behaved unreasonably. I was selfish, and I’m so sorry.” She covered her hands over her face, crying. She did that a lot now; cried. Several times a day, she cried. And it had only been two days.

But those two days might as well have been years, for all Anja was concerned.

She was supposed to report back to Desmond, but she hadn’t bothered that just yet. She had installed the Cogwave Jammer on the Ferris Wheel, angering this brain who called himself Calvert. The jammer supposedly prevented him from mind controlling his Tribal subjects. She’d fought and killed the Tribals that attacked her afterwards, barely able to walk away alive. But she was alive, and she was going to see this through. She had to now, now that they’d taken away the only thing she’d truly come to care about in the Wasteland.

Sighing and looking over the edge once again, she reached for Charon. It was an automated thing now, something she did even when she wasn’t thinking about it. She wasn’t sure he’d even notice if things had been as they should be, because she had only just begun to scrape the surface of how deep their bond truly went. But she did it anyhow, hoping he’d respond.

Maybe he was dead, a plaguing thought whispered. Maybe he’d died, and she just didn’t know it yet. He’d said that it was only a matter of days before Leena and the Brotherhood marched to take the Jefferson Memorial. Perhaps that day had come and gone.

Maybe the hallucination down in the bog had been real, and Charon really was dead.

She shivered a little and rose to her feet. That thought was more haunting and devastating than losing him as a soulmate. She would survive without him on the other side of the bond. She’d be able to live just knowing he was alright and out there, still kicking. But dead?

No. That wasn’t an option she’d be able to deal with.

Descending the hill down from the cathedral, Anja pulled her rifle out and loaded it. The Cathedral was quiet behind her, blood dripping on its doorsteps in a steady stream.

The only person who had been allowed to escape was Nadine. The orange-haired girl didn’t deserve to die. Not like the others.

They’d pay for this. All of them. She’d spare no one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've taken some liberties in the nightmare that takes place in the bog. I hope you approve of how I've inserted it into Anja's story, because I really enjoyed this part. I actually re-played this add-on with Anja and Charon in mind before writing this chapter. 
> 
> These chapters are a bit dark, I know. I hope you enjoy them regardless of that.  
> Thank you for reading!  
> Until next time!


	22. Chapter 22

**Broken**

 

Charon entered Point Lookout from the north, instantly hating the place and everything in it. It was ugly, desolated, wet, quiet and dangerous. He didn’t waste his time and immediately began interrogating the first locals he found. These people reeked of murder, cannibalism, poorly genetic hygiene and radiation, but Charon could be _very_ persuasive. They were stupid and illiterate, but they understood pain. All of them caved into his questions eventually.

They pointed him to a cathedral on top of a hill. One of local men who appeared to be more gifted with speech than his brothers explained that Tribals lived there. Tribals were humans, they would know more about this female Charon was looking for.

Charon thanked them and threw a Molotov cocktail at their house while they were still bound up inside.

He found the cathedral and threatened a man at the gates to tell him where Anja had gone. The man, a stuttering terrified tribal, pointed him towards the bog she’d been in. The one where Charon had last been in contact with her. Charon gave the man a look promising a great deal of pain and death if his advice turned out to be false.

The man scurried away from him.

Charon trekked on and eventually, after some time of searching, he found the bog. He entered it, and spent a whole day searching it. The only thing he found was a heap of hair on the ground just inside the entrance, brown and thick hair that curled lazily when he lifted a lock for closer inspection. It was Anja’s hair. The way the light caught and reflected a slight auburn shine made him certain if was hers.

Exiting the bog again, he gripped his shotgun with hard hands and walked back to the cathedral.

It was in the middle of the night when he returned to the Tribals’ base. And all he found were corpses. The gates looked like they had been blown open and off their hinges. He walked slowly inside the building, investigating the bodies and the brutality behind the mess. Someone had stormed inside this place in a frenzy, shooting at everything that moved. There were bullets everywhere, lodged deep into the old walls as well as the bodies. Blood and body parts practically painted the whole building red inside, and from the position of the bodies, very few of them had been lucky enough to die immediately. Many had tried to crawl away, and then succumbed to their wounds and bled to death later. He saw their trails all over the floors, how they’d crawled over each other in their panicked attempts at getting out of there.

Following the path of the empty casings and the bullets’ trajectory, his eyes narrowed. The shooter had been alone.

He kneeled on the floor and picked up a casing, his chest thrumming as his mind instinctively reached out into the silence where Anja had once been. The casings were from 5.56mm rounds. The same type of ammo that would fit a Chinese Assault Rifle. The kind of weapon Anja favored.

Feeling puzzled, Charon left the cathedral again, rubbing his sheriff’s hat a little back and forth on his head. The evidence was there, that Anja might still be very much awake and in a terrible mood. But why couldn’t he find her? Why was there only silence and echoing darkness when he tried to feel her through their bond?

His hazy eyes trailed the darkness from his elevated lookout position. He looked north, west, and south. His eyes stopped south. There was light. Light from an old shopping area. He could spot a large pier as well, a Ferris wheel, and a boat in dock.

He slung the barrel of his shotgun over his shoulder and stepped down the stairs, leaving the bloodied cathedral behind to its own demise.

…

 

Anja sauntered up the dirt road towards the old Calvert Mansion, her assault rifle swinging carelessly at her side. She whistled a melody she hadn’t remembered in a long time, one she had made up herself when she was a kid. The tune was promising, but unfinished.

It was dark, in the middle of the night, but she didn’t care. If Desmond was asleep, she knew of ways to wake him up. She stopped to watch the building, admire the still proud architecture even when it was about to crumble by age. It was big, very big. Once upon a time, it could have housed an entire settlement. Maybe all of Megaton even.

She knew she was a horrific sight. She was bloodied, both by wounds of her own, but mostly by the blood of her victims. Her eyes appeared to be slightly too big for her face, and her pupils were horrendously small.

Yes, she was using again. All of it. Whatever she could find. Buffout; check. Psycho; double-check. Jet; check and then some for later. Med-X; triple-check. Mentats; check. At this point, she didn’t give a flying fuck who saw her high. Everything was painless, the world floating lazily around her, colors pulsating a little while the world seemed like it moved in slow motion. But her focus was centered and dead on. Her eyes were sharp and intense. Truth be told, she’d enjoyed her killing spree a lot more than she should have, and if she survived this, she might consider a career with raiders when she got back to the Capital.

Finishing her admiration of the old mansion, she began walking again. Her strides were casual and in no hurry at all. Desmond and Calvert wouldn’t survive the night anyways, so why rush it.

She heard footsteps behind her. Hurried steps, heavy. A flash of recognition surged through her. The sound brought back a memory, of herself scared in the Metro tunnels while she tried to flee with a duffle bag she had just scavenged. Frowning, she lifted her assault rifle into position and whirled around.

For a long second, Anja couldn’t breathe. 

…

 

The woman stared wildly at him, staying completely still, forgetting to breathe and blink. Charon took notice of her small pupils, the slightly erratic tremor in her knees, and the fresh track marks on her arms. She was bloodied from head to toe, and she had a long and nasty looking wound along the shaved side of her scalp. It had been stitched rather haphazardly, but it hadn’t been treated with a stimpak yet.

She stared as if she wasn’t really seeing him, and he tried and failed to find her through the bond.

“Anja?” he asked slowly, throwing his shotgun to his back and lifting his hands in peace. 

Hearing her name had her blink. Several times as if she’d just woken from a trance. Color returned to her pale cheeks.

“Am I hallucinating again?”

Charon tried to keep the frown out of his face. “You’re not hallucinating. I’m here.” He took a calm step towards her. She didn’t flinch, didn’t try to back away from him.

“No. I saw you. Face down in the water. Dead. I saw them all dead.”

“I’m not dead Anja. No one has died.” He had no idea who she was referring to, so he couldn’t really tell her they weren’t dead. But in that moment, it felt like the right thing to say. Taking another step towards her, he extended his hand slowly. “Anja? Can you see me right now, right here, or are you seeing something else?”

A shiver raked down her body. “I-I don’t know. I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

“What are you seeing?” He took another step towards her, one arm extended, slowly reaching for her gun. His eyes were locked on hers though, and her chem-induced brain was focusing intensely on his face. 

“Charon. A ghoul. A very large ghoul who used to be my soulmate.”

“Why the past tense, Anja?” He took another step, slowly, leaning a little to the side to catch her eyes again when she averted them in confusion.

“They…” she swallowed, her throat thick. Her voice was breathy and shaking.

When she couldn’t manage to say anything more, Charon really did frown this time, looking searchingly at her. “What did they do?”

Her eyes lowered, and one of her hands released the gun and lifted to the stitched wound in her head. When she was no longer holding the weapon with both hands, it was beginning to tip dangerously forward. Charon eyed it warily and took another step closer. Close enough to let his fingers wrap carefully around the barrel of the weapon. He knew very well that if he scared her, she might pull the trigger and shoot him in the guts at close range.

“They took something,” Anja stuttered with her eyes still lowered. She didn’t object when Charon very slowly eased the weapon out of her hand. It was as if she didn’t even notice. Once he’d managed to disarm her with one hand, the other gently grabbed her shoulder. She felt thin and fragile under his hand, another shiver running through her. He couldn’t tell if it was the chems causing the shivers, or her darkened state of mind.

“Who did this to you?” he asked, keeping his voice lowered.

Her eyes snapped up to look at him again, and he saw the light caught in them as they filled with tears. She reached out, slowly raising her hand to his face, touching his cheek with just the tips of her fingers. Her fingers were cold and slightly damp. “You’re really here.” Another shiver, this time more violent, raced through her.

“I’m here,” he reassured and moved his hand from her shoulder to her scarred cheek, cupping it warmly the way he’d wanted to do for so long. The way he’d done through their bond. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Suddenly, the entire area filled with fire and noise and they were cast back. The explosion was loud and devastating. The blast threw both Charon and Anja many feet backwards, ripping them apart by force. He could hear her scream as she was hurled through the air, a shrill and scared sound that shook him to his bones. He landed on his back and immediately staggered back onto his feet. Black, thick smoke followed the fire, dirt and debris still raining down on the area. Couching, he shielded his eyes while he searched for Anja.

Where the old Mansion had stood just a few seconds ago, there was nothing but broken stumps from the foundation and black, scorched dirt.

Finally spotting her figure amongst the debris, Charon hurried towards her. Just now did he realize that he was still somehow holding her weapon in his hand, and he quickly swung it onto his back to join his shotgun.

She was lying on her side, her body limp and her face pale. He kneeled next to her and pushed the debris away, checking her for wounds. The only ones he could find were at least several hours old. Administering a stimpak just in case she’d received internal damages, he finally dared to lift her off the ground.

If he remembered correctly, Anja had a room in the motel not too far away that she’d stayed in. Turning his steps in that direction, he looked down at her face, seeing that the stimpak was slowly healing the stitched wound in her scalp.

Whatever had happened to her in this place, he intended to find out.

…

 

Pain, weakness, confusion and difficulties to move were all withdrawal symptoms Anja already knew well. She was freezing cold but sweating at the same time. Shivering, she burrowed as deep into the pillows and blankets she could, feeling how the rough materials scraped against her skin and made her cringe of discomfort.

She slept a lot. Maybe passed out, because she didn’t dream when she closed her eyes. She wondered if that’s what dying felt like; emptiness and nothing.

Every breath was an effort, and every exhale made her lungs feel like they were about to collapse. She pulled the closest blanket over her head to shut out the light stinging in her eyes, only to kick it away again because it tried to suffocate her. She rolled over and accidentally fell out of the bed, the impact with the floor made her whimper in pain.

The floor was cold, a slight draft causing her to shaker harder, and she fumbled above her to pull the blankets down to cover her. A thick and warm blanket wrapped itself around her, and without knowing how she’d managed it, she was back in the bed.

When she was awake, the world felt alive, and it was trying to kill her. The walls in the room caved in, and then out, as if the building itself was breathing. Or maybe it was her own breaths. Maybe she inhaled so hard that she emptied the room of air, and maybe if she breathed the same air long enough, eventually she’d suffocate. The thought caused her to panic, and she held her breath, staring at the walls.

When she couldn’t hold it in anymore, she exhaled hard with a cry that hurt her chest. She shut her eyes hard.

“Make it stop,” she begged. Her voice was hoarse and low, but it echoed inside her head too loud and deep. And why was she begging? Who was she talking to? She was alone, like she had always been. She’d fought through withdrawals before, all by herself.

She slept again, inviting the nothingness back with open arms.

She awoke groaning, practically bathing in her own sweat and lying curled up and clutching her stomach. And then she immediately uncurled and kicked the blankets away. Her stomach felt like it was full of knives, twisting into and around her bowels. Horrified, she rolled over and stumbled out of the bed, catching herself against the wall.

Stumbling through the darkness, she found a door and tried to open it, only to find it locked.

Jerking the handle, she pushed her body against the door, trying to force it open. But it didn’t budge, and it only made her chest hurt when she breathed. The knives in her stomach twisted again, and she panicked.

Then someone took her shoulders, startling her to shriek loudly. Whoever it was; the person turned her around, steering her steps back to the bed. Anja balked and put her heels against the floor, muttering words that didn’t make sense even to herself. Straining, a sound of frustration escaped her, and she finally gained control over her speech.

“Bathroom!”

The person seemed to understand her distress, and quickly helped her to the other side of the room. She tried to turn her head and see who it was, but it was dark, and the person stayed behind her. And then her hand found another door handle, unlocked, and she forgot about the person and hurried inside.

She sat on the toilet with a metal bucket between her knees, certain that she’d liquified inside. Her mouth tasted like bile and blood. Radiation sickness, her mind warned. Quick images of skin melting off bones and exposed sinews flashed in her mind. Fingernails falling off and teeth rotting away. Creatures in dark tunnels that screamed hoarsely with maddened, pale eyes.

The images made her stomach churn again, and she cried while she vomited another time.

Someone knocked on the door, and her head snapped up, suddenly remembering that she wasn’t alone. The person didn’t wait for her response, and the door opened.

The quick flashing images slowed, and pale eyes looked down at her. But the eyes weren’t maddened, and the creature didn’t scream. It had teeth and fingernails, and its flesh wasn’t rotten or soggy like a sponge. He was large and solid, and he wasn’t crazed or hunting her in dark tunnels.

And even though she was delirious and still in withdrawal, Anja knew that she _knew_ him.

…

 

It took Anja several days to recover from the withdrawal. Charon didn’t leave her alone for more than a few hours at a time, whenever he had to leave to find them supplies. She spent those hours sleeping if she could, or she locked herself in the bathroom.

The first time she hid in there, she had crawled into the bathtub and hid underneath many blankets. She didn’t even know why she did it, but there was something about the cramped space of the tub that made her feel safe. When Charon had returned, she was asleep, and she hadn’t heard him knock.

The bathroom door was unlockable now, the lock broken. But that didn’t deter her from hiding in there several times more. Charon never commented it when he found her in there, sometimes asleep, sometimes awake.

She grew stronger by each day, after she’d fought off the worst of the withdrawal. She still hadn’t told him what had happened to her, and he didn’t ask. He didn’t have to ask, because one afternoon when he returned from the trader at the docks, Anja understood that he knew.

…

 

She was dozing off in the bathtub again, blankets tucked tightly around herself. She still didn’t dream when she slept, but at least that meant her sleep was quiet and calm. When suddenly a warm and firm hand gently touched her cheek, she opened her eyes, momentarily confused to find Charon crouching beside the tub.

“Hey,” she rasped and cleared her throat, watching how his jaw was set in a hardened line. “Back already?”

“I’ve been out for a couple of hours.” The hand on her cheek moved to take her chin, gently turning her face slightly to the side. His hazy gray eyes trailed the shaved area of her head. “I meet Nadine at the docks.” His voice was rough and chilled, and he released her chin.

Looking at Charon’s expression, the thickness in her chest returned. The thickness that had been her companion after the events at the bog. After she’d lost her connection to her soulmate. She tried to reach him through the bond, unsurprised to see that he didn’t even notice. “Are you angry?”

“Very.”

Swallowing hard, she sat up in the tub. “You can’t feel me at all?” She kept trying, and failing, to reach through to him.

Judging by the intense look in his eyes, he was trying the same. He shook his head a little. “Nothing.”

“Does that mean… Does that mean we’re no longer…?”

“Soulmates?” His large hand moved to take her arm, carefully urging her to stand and get out of the tub. Anja followed his wordless instructions, no longer worried about him seeing her in just her underwear; a pair of panties and a thin tank top. She kept looking at his face while he draped one of the blankets over her shoulders. “I don’t know Anja.” He sounded tired.

After several more heartbeats, he sighed and motioned her out of the bathroom. She walked past him out the door, seeing that he’d begun packing their things.

“Why did you come here?”

“I came to find you.”

“By Leena’s orders?” Anja turned around next to the bed, looking searchingly at him. “You’re here to take me back?”

“Leena did tell me to come find you,” he rasped, speaking slowly. “But she…” His hand lifted to his chest, pausing there for a second, and then lift further to adjust the hat on his head. He sighed. “Anja, did you know this would happen? Did you know that this… procedure, would break our connection?”

He didn’t sound angry, but his eyes betrayed that he was. Anja recoiled a few steps, shocked and gaping at him.

“No,” she gasped. “No, I didn’t. How could I know? Do you really think I would’ve gone through with that crazy ritual if I knew?”

“You’ve made it clear you don’t want this.” He narrowed his eyes slightly while he motioned between them. “You’ve gone through a great deal of trouble to get away from me. What am I supposed to think about that?”

Still staring wide-eyed up at him, Anja took a few slow steps away. “You think I did this on purpose,” she muttered, clutching the blanket closer around herself and feeling shocked anger crawl around in her abdomen.

“Anja…” he followed her the small steps she’d backed, looking right at her. “I’m a ghoul. I’m repulsive. I can’t fault you for wanting out. But don’t lie to me about it. No more beating around the bushes.”

“What difference does it make? You haven’t exactly been honest with me either.” Her voice was edged in a building anger.

If Charon had ever appeared intimidating, this was one of those moments. Anja caught herself backing further away at his stormy expression.

“I have _never_ lied to you,” he rasped slowly between clenched teeth.

“Sure, you have. You just didn’t know it at the time.”

Her words made him solidify, staring at her from under the brim of his hat. “What are you talking about?”

“Our bond. The one that makes you worry for me. Remember what James said? It’s in our biology. You couldn’t help it.”

“Wrong,” Charon shook his head and closed in on her, slowly hunting her around the small room by each step. “You still think I don’t care?”

Anja quickly avoided being cornered by bouncing onto the bed and down on the other side. “Now that you’re free of the bond, you can go back to Leena and her mission.”

By this point, Charon looked absolutely furious. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not? You came here to take care of whatever was distracting you from your duties.” He was rounding the bed to her side, and again, she bounced onto it. “Well, it’s been taken care of. Problem solved! You can go back now.”

Charon stilled, standing at the foot end of the bed, watching how she was ready to jump off it on any side that was opposite of his. “Is that what you want me to do? Leave you here?”

Swallowing, Anja held her response back. She glared at him, seeing that he took a moment to pause and acknowledge her lack of response. Then his frown deepened, and he leapt swiftly forwards. Anja blinked and hurried away from his approach. She dropped the blanket, and then stumbled on it before she could manage a proper jump. She fell off the bed, about to crash into the wall next to it. The next second, Charon had caught her mid-fall, preventing her from colliding with anything. And then she found herself trapped for real this time.

Charon pushed her into the corner or the room and effectively crowded her space. Using his arms to block off any exit, he looked down at her hard.

“Listen carefully. I worry for your safety not because of our bond, but because I care. I have known you for a long time, Anja. I’ve learned to care beyond our bond.”

He paused and observed her face, and then slowly moved one hand off from the wall and placed it on her chest. The slight pressure from his large palm made her heartbeats quicken, and Anja understood that’s what he was feeling. His hardened expression softened slightly, but his eyes didn’t waiver from hers when he lowered his voice, speaking quietly as he continued.

“I cared enough to keep my distance from you, because I knew how much I upset you. I cared enough to say ‘no’ to you back in Rivet City, even though all I wanted to do was ravage you in bed. Trust me, Anja, you wouldn’t want me to any care less than I did in that moment.” His voice felt like it was vibrating against her, down her spine.

“And now?” she whispered hoarsely, eyes trailing to his chest and over his wide shoulders. “Now that our bond is gone. How much do you care now?”

“Nothing’s changed. I still consider you _my_ mate, even without the bond. But I also care about what you want. If you tell me to leave, because you don’t want this, then I will.”

The thickness in her chest returned, making it hard to breathe. Charon’s voice was insistent, his eyes intense. All the unreleased anger and confusion had come rolling back into her, only to flow out again at his words. The realization that she’d read his behavior all wrong came crashing down on her with full force.

And then a sudden, more shocking and surprising realization dawned on her. He wasn’t trying to force her back to the Wasteland. He offered to leave without her. Lifting her gaze again to meet his, she felt her heartbeats quicken further, feeling the pressure behind Charon’s hand still on her chest.

“Leena didn’t order you to take me back with you, did she?”

He shook his head slowly. “No, she didn’t.”

“How…?”

Without taking his hand off her chest, he used his other hand to reach inside his chest-piece, pulling out a piece of paper from it. Anja stared at it with big eyes when he put it her hands, seeing that it was an envelope.

She was acutely aware that he didn’t put his hand back onto the wall next to her head, but instead placed it on her hip. His hand was warm, and his thumb caressed the naked skin on her hipbone. Goosebumps crawled up her spine and down her arms at the sensation.

“I don’t know what’s inside,” he said slowly, looking down at the envelope in her hands. “But whatever it is, it’s yours.”

Anja opened the envelope with shaking hands, pulling out two pieces of paper lying on top of each other. She read through the first sheet; a very long letter that slowly while she read it drained the color from her cheeks. Charon’s hand on her hip tighten its hold, and the one on her chest pushed her gently back against the wall, steadying her when she began to sway. She could feel his piercing eyes on her, knowing that he was most likely trying hard to connect with her trough their bond.

When she’d finished with the letter, her hand slowly brought out the other paper sheet, and she looked at it. Faded, worn, with intricate letters written on it a long time ago. It bore the obvious signs that it was usually kept rolled up, and not folded in an envelope.

Her green eyes flew up to Charon’s face, seeing that he was looking down at the paper in her hands. Then he closed his eyes while a long and slow inhale shook through his upper body. His thumb on her hip caressed her skin again with a firm motion.

“If you tell me to leave,” he rasped, exhaling hard. “Please be specific about where and for how long.”

Frowning, Anja slowly looked back down to the piece of paper in her hand; Charon’s Contract.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger! I know some of you may want to yell at me for this. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. Thanks for the kudos and comments as well. They always brighten my day :)


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have mentioned this earlier. If anyone would like to know what I imagine Leena to look like; she could be the actor Aimee Garcia's twin. Sometimes when I write, familiar faces pop ito my head, and they just won't leave. Leena's face always took Garcia's face. So there you have it. 
> 
> This isn't really a chapter. I had intended to add it as the final chapter of this story, but then I changed my mind. It'll work just as well here. It gives us a little more insight into why Leena has done things the way she has.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and thanks for the comments and kudos! <3  
> Until next time!

**Dear Anja**

 

I hope this letter finds you well. I also hope that I’m still alive when you receive it.

I’ve never told you the full story of why I’ve kept Charon so close. I’ll tell it to you now, because I'm worried I might never get the chance to tell you later.

The first time I saw Charon in Underworld, he just stood there in a corner and looked so bored and intimidating at once. And Ahzrukhal treated him like shit. I felt so bad for him, and I wanted to help. But I was naïve. Will you believe me if I said that I regretted hiring him the moment he shot Ahzrukhal? But by then it was already too late. I couldn’t just hand off his contract to whoever I ran into. I mean, the guy is as dangerous as they come, right? So, I took him with me.

But then I learned very quickly to trust his skills as a bodyguard. He kept me out of harm’s way, and I felt genuinely safe with him. Now, I should probably say that my soulmate wasn’t so quick to trust. It was actually his idea that I should try and find some kind of leverage over the beastly ghoul I now had in my employment.

That leverage, Anja, turned out to be you. And I’m so, so sorry for all of this. But if my fears are correct then I’m already dead and Charon has extracted vengeance for you both. Now, Charon didn’t exactly volunteer the information about you, but you know me… I can be very persuasive.

This is all my fault, you know. The first time Charon reached out and spoke to you… It was because I told him to. And when he told me about how scared you were, that you were about to die, I was horrified. But not for you or Charon. I was horrified that my one and only leverage over him was slipping away through my fingers, and I did everything I could to keep you alive when we found you.

Writing all of this now, it almost feels surreal to think about how coldhearted I was. Because when you woke up, I immediately fell in love with you. But not ‘fell in love’ as you would think, but in the way that I immediately liked you.

You’re the first and only real friend I’ve had out here in the Wasteland.

And gosh, I’ve been scared for your safety! The first time you pulled a gun on me and Charon attacked you, I thought my heart was going to stop. Because in that moment, Charon proved to me that his contract would efficiently override anything and everything, even his own soulmate. So much for that leverage, right? After that, I lived in a constant fear where I imagined that either Charon or someone else was going to kill you, and it would be all my fault.

The first time you left us, when you left for Megaton, I hoped I would never see you again. But then you found us, and I was both happy and devastated to have you join us again. I want you to know that every time you asked for his contract, I didn’t just decline because I was selfish and needed his help. I declined because I wasn’t comfortable knowing you’d be out there with him alone. No matter how much I adore you and want you to be happy Anja, Charon is a very dangerous person to be around. That, and I was worried of what he’d do to me once his contract changed hands.

Do you have any idea how frightened I was back in Rivet City, when I heard that you’d rented a room at the hotel, and that Charon was in that room with you, alone?

Something happened between the two of you back in Rivet City, didn’t it? You were both so different afterwards. So angry. When we got to the Citadel, I kept Charon close to me and as far away from you as I could. And your request? To go and help search the Arlington Library? It couldn’t have come at a more perfect time.

Now, I know this doesn’t sound right. I’ve let the two of you be alone many times. But you need to know that I’ve been balancing on a fine line where I’ve tried to keep Charon docile in his need to be with you, and at the same time protect you from him. It turned out to be a frustrating task of micromanaging the time you two had together; where and when and for how long.

I thought you wanted to leave us because you were afraid of him. But I understand now that’s not the case. Not entirely, anyhow. I’ve been so preoccupied in my own fears and what I thought was right, that I didn’t see how much I was hurting you both by keeping you apart.

While I’m writing you this letter, I’m very much aware that you’re in a lot of trouble. Charon is virtually breathing down my neck, anxious to go and get you. But I can’t let him do that, now can I? Because I know that if I do, you’ll try to run. Because that’s just how stubborn you are. And I know that if you do, Charon will find a way to restrain you and bring you back by force. Because that’s just how brutal and obedient he is to his contract. And I can’t see a way for this to end well for any of ~~you~~ us. - I can’t see a way for this to end well for any of us. Because you’ll hate me. You’ll hate Charon. Charon will hate me. And I’m already hating myself enough as it is.

I’m so, SO sorry about all this Anja. Please forgive me if you can. Imagine that I’m begging on my knees, pleading for your forgiveness. I’ll do it if I survive this and we meet again. I swear I will.

The only option I have left is to send you his contract. The very contract you could’ve taken once before but chose not to. I hope you’ll take it this time. I hope it’ll protect you from harm, and that Charon will find some peace of mind while it is in your possession. It pains me to give it away, because I know I might never see you again.

Do you remember that I told you Charon killed his previous employer? I fear that the very moment I give Charon this envelope, he’ll understand what it is and shoot me. I really don’t want to die, Anja. I’ve never told you this, but I’m scared shitless of dying. And my soulmate is just as scared as I am. We both know that Charon might kill me once he understands that I’m not his employer anymore.

Please stay safe Anja. Stay alive and stay safe.

Much love,

Your friend forever

Leena

 

P.S

I’ve never told you this either, but I think I should. My soulmate also adores you. He’s different than I am… Tougher. Like you, actually. He’s with me right now while I’m writing this, and he wants you to know that you got more friends than you think. He hopes that, in time, you can forgive us both. 


	24. Chapter 24

**Revenge**

 

Charon sat at the foot of the bed, head slightly dipped. His hands worked with calm accuracy, cleaning and polishing every part of the disassembled shotgun spread out around him. He was acutely aware that his soulmate sat just a couple of feet away, at the head end of the bed, wearing very little clothes. He tried not to stare. She’d attempted to cover up in a blanket, after all.

One of his earlier employers, long before Ahzrukhal, had also been fond of chemical substances. Charon knew that some of the withdrawal effects of Med-X were intense muscle pains and hypersensitivity. Even though Anja was through most of the withdrawal, she still had a hard time feeling the rough materials of her armor against her skin.

She was reading through Leena’s letter, over and over again. Her face expressed shock, anger, and then hurt. Charon didn’t know what was in the letter, and he didn’t ask. His contract was with her now, and that was all that mattered to him.

Nadine, the girl he’d met at the docks, had told him that Anja was missing a piece of her brain. It was part of the Tribals’ ritual, allegedly to free their minds. It didn’t always work out too well for the victims though, and Anja was lucky she wasn’t drooling all over herself.

Charon didn’t know much about the brain and its physiology, but he knew they needed help to figure this out. He had packed most of their equipment, hoping that she’d be ready to leave this place soon. He wanted her out of here, take her back to the Capital Wasteland and find a doctor who could look at her head.

But Anja wasn’t ready to leave yet. She wanted revenge over the people who had done this to her. She’d been on her way back to see Desmond when he’d found her, and she still had unfinished business with the old ghoul.

“So…” his soulmate said slowly, her voice quiet and hesitant. “This,” she held his contract out to him.

Charon lifted his gaze from the shotgun to look at her. He noticed the small grimace in her face.

“You have to do everything I say?”

“Not everything.”

“You did everything Leena said.” A frown caressed her forehead.

He shook his head slightly. “Not everything,” he repeated.

“What orders can you refuse?”

“Suicide. Unnecessary self-harm.”

She worried her lip between her teeth, watching him with apprehension. “What happens if I give you orders like that?”

Charon put his half-assembled shotgun down on the bed, abandoning it in favor of her question. “I’ll refuse.”

She looked genuinely worried. “Leena once mentioned something about violence…?”

He gave her a short nod. “Violence invalidates the contract.”

“Are you for real?” She blinked and stared, mouth halfway open. “You’re saying that all I need to do is slap you around a little, and then this thing is invalid?” While she spoke, she waved his contract at him. “Why didn’t you say so sooner? Come here…”

She leaned forwards, and Charon quickly grabbed her hand before she managed to hit him. His fingers wrapped firmly around her wrist, putting enough force behind the gesture to make her freeze and pay attention. Giving her a hard look, he shook his head slowly.

“That’s not what it means. It invalidates you as my employer, not the contract itself.”

“But you said…?”

Relaxing his hold on her wrist, he let her go with another headshake. “Poor choice of words.”

Anja withdrew from him, face still set in a worried expression that was now also very apprehensive. “Okay. So, what happens if I accidentally hit you?”

“You’ll have to find me a new employer.”

She crossed her arms at that, giving him a defiant look. “And if I refuse?”

“I’ll make you.” Charon tipped his head a little forward, looking right into her earthly green eyes. He didn’t mind that she asked questions. In fact, he preferred it that way. In many ways, Anja was a loose cannon. Out of all the employers he’d ever had, she was the most likely to fuck it up by mere accident. If he wanted to keep her as his employer, she needed learn how to maneuver around his contract. “It won’t be pleasant.”

Her apprehension grew, and she swallowed. “Dammit Charon,” she groaned and tossed his contract down on the bed between them. “I don’t like this. I don’t want to be another Leena. I don’t want you to be obligated to do everything I say whenever I say it. And a simple warning from you that I’m about to step over out of line isn’t going to be enough for me.”

Charon could feel his shoulders tense, watching her frown down at the contract on the bed while she bit her lip. He didn’t need to feel her through the bond to know what she was thinking. Looking right at her, he kept her green eyes locked in his own, speaking slowly. “I’m bound to the contract and the person who holds it, but if the person who holds it tries to destroy it, the contract outweighs the holder. Keep that in mind.”

“Right,” she sighed, green gaze wandering down to the fragile paper sheet on the bed again. “Thanks for the warning.”

She looked so small and uncertain and vulnerable, it made his stomach turn. He wanted to move closer to her, to try and give her some comfort. But he couldn’t. The contact laid there on the bed between them, and he couldn’t touch it or brush it aside to do what he wanted. It was such a small and unassuming little thing, and it still held all this power over them both.

 “I’ll teach you to master the contract,” he rasped, trying to sound gentle.

Her eyes snapped up to look at him again, narrowing slightly. “You mean, you’ll teach me how to _control_ _you_. But what if I don’t want that, huh? Can’t I just order you to do whatever you want?”

An involuntary and short chuckle escaped him, his eyes glittered with humor.  “Don’t. You’re not ready for _whatever_ I want.”

The slightly appraising way she glanced at his physique, accompanied with a small and nervous chuckle, told him she understood what he meant. Charon caught himself wondering how she would handle his physical closeness now that the bond wasn’t pulling her towards him. She hadn’t outright avoided him yet, but that didn’t mean she was going to appreciate the kind of attention he would have liked to give her.

Nothing had changed, he realized. Their bond was quiet, she had his contract. _Everything_ had changed, and it had changed _nothing_.

He still needed to keep a certain distance from her, still needed her to trust him. And he knew Anja needed time to figure out what she really wanted. Now that she wasn’t under the influence of their bond, it was very possible she’d realize that an ancient ghoul was _not_ what she wanted.

“Will you help me?” Anja asked, pulling Charon out of his own thoughts. “Will you help me see this through?”

He slowly returned his attention to his disassembled shotgun, picking up where he had left off. “If you tell me to - you know I will.”

She leaned forward, towards him, trying to catch his eyes. “Do you _want_ to help me?”

_No_ , was his initial thought. He didn’t want to help her. He wanted her back in the Capital. He wanted her examined by a doctor. He wanted his soulmate back. Extracting revenge over the people responsible for this would serve nothing good except feed her own perception of herself as a victim. Charon couldn’t bring himself to care that these people might do to others what they had done to Anja. He honestly didn’t care.

But he cared about her. And she wouldn’t find peace of mind before she’d dealt with this. It was important to her. Now that they weren’t connected through their bond, he needed to show her that he would support her.

Besides, Charon mused. These thoughts were hypocritical at best. He understood revenge better than anyone. He had, after all, served Ahzrukhal a well-deserved dish of death once he was freed of his obligation to him. If that wasn’t revenge, then Charon didn’t know what was.

And it had mentally freed him of everything he’d been through during that employment. Anja deserved that freedom as well.

“Yes,” he confirmed, finally looking up to meet her green gaze. “I want to help.”

“Thank you, Charon.” Her smile was timid, but she dipped her in head in appreciation.

…

 

They packed and readied their belongings, setting them right inside the door of the motel room, ready for pick up. Charon had been at the docks again, only to see that the ferry was still gone. Nadine had been waiting for it to return. She promised to stall the ferry’s departure if it returned before Charon and Anja did.

Charon had managed to goad an agreement out of Anja that they’d return to the Capital once they had dealt with Desmond and Calvert. Anja wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed that, but she suspected he might have talked her around again. He could be quite the manipulator when he wanted to, she understood.

They approached the ruins of Calvert mansion together. Charon was trailing close behind her, his shotgun ready in both hands, his looming frame watching over her every step. It was unsettling to suddenly be the center of his attention like that. Earlier, he’d kept an eye on her, but he always stayed close to Leena. His employer.

Now, _she_ was his employer. And he’d already stressed that he still considered her his soulmate. Which now meant he watched her with something that resembled a religious devotion.

Remembering that Desmond had said something about a safe-room, Anja began searching the ruins of the mansion. She assumed that the explosion had been the fail-safe Desmond had mentioned, and for something to survive that devastating explosion, it had to be underground.

They found the hatch in the ground easily enough. The debris around the hatch had been cleared away, revealing that someone had been there recently.

Anja kneeled next to it while Charon hovered above her, lifting the hatch open and peeking inside. A ladder led down the hole, and she saw lights down there. She opened the hatch fully and was just about to climb down into the hole when Charon grabbed her shoulder.

The look he gave her was full of steel.

“He knows me, Charon,” she said to fan away his protests. “He’ll be expecting me.”

Charon released her with hesitation, looking non-too-happy about it. She climbed into the hole, noticing that Charon followed closely, almost stepping on her hands while they descended the ladder.

Once her feet met the ground, Anja turned and spotted the ghoul Desmond. He was aiming a gun at the intruders, visibly relaxing when he saw who it was. He lowered the weapon, but then a nasty scowl twisted his features. Before Anja had time to react, he stepped forward and slapped her. Hard.

“What the fuck took you so long?” the old ghoul practically growled. Anja’s head snapped to the side, and she staggered out of mere surprise. Desmond lifted his eyes to the other person coming down the ladder, his scowl deepened. “And who the hell is – ohmpph!”

Of course, Charon had seen the other ghoul slap her. And _of course_ , he wasn’t going to take that kindly. Charon’s massive size was only empathized by the narrow space in the bunker, and he had grabbed Desmond before the old ghoul had time to understand what was happening. Suddenly, he found himself hanging by the neck from the larger ghoul’s grip, back slammed forcibly into the nearest wall.

Desmond gasped for air and grasped at Charon’s arm and hand, trying to pry his grip loose. Charon didn’t say anything, didn’t budge. He held the old ghoul in place, eyes shining with something Anja could only describe as murder.

“This…” Anja said calmly, trying not to rub at the sting in her cheek. The ghoul had slapped her flat-handed, and it fucking _hurt_. “…is Charon. Now tell us what happened here.”

Desmond struggled to speak, but Charon didn’t even try to ease his discomfort and Anja had no desire to intervene. Honestly, after the rude and demeaning way Desmond had treated her, she liked seeing him helpless and utterly terrified.

“That…” Desmond rasped with great difficulty. “That BASTARD killed my pups. Tried to kill ME!” He paused, wheezing a breath, trying to swallow. “He tried to blow me up. ME!”

“Uh-huh?” Anja lifted an eyebrow, thoroughly fed up with Desmond’s selfishness. “Where is Calvert?”

“I know where he is….” Another choking sound escaped him, followed by a wince of pain. “…But I’m not telling you shit unless he lets go of me.” He inclined his head towards Charon, his voice rasping more and more while he spoke, revealing that Charon was indeed slowly choking him.

“Let him go, Charon,” Anja ordered, feeling the command roll out of her mouth uncomfortably and awkwardly. Seeing that Charon immediately dropped the other ghoul on her command just made it worse. She cringed inwardly.

Desmond fell in a heap on the floor, trying to catch himself with dignity and failing at it hilariously. Charon took one, measured step away from him, allowing the old ghoul to clamber back onto his feet.

“I’m really tired of being a pawn in this game, Desmond. Where’s Calvert?”

“Well,” Desmond panted, straightening himself and brushing over his suit with his palms. “That’s good since the game is almost done.” He eyed the other ghoul, slowly moving away from his presence, trying to close in on Anja. When that had the other ghoul move with him, he stopped. “Calvert is in the lighthouse. You and I are going to walk in there and end this.”

“What lighthouse? The one just off the cliffs out there?” Anja crossed her arms, narrowing her eyebrows in disbelief.

“What are you, an imbecile? Yes, _that_ lighthouse. He’s been right under my nose this whole time. Hiding behind robots and machines, pathetic. He dies today.”

Anja retrieved her assault rifle from her back, checking her ammo and then reloading it slowly. “Oh, don’t worry. Calvert will die today,” she said, her tone matter-of-factly and certain. Then she lifted her rifle, leveling it towards Desmond, aiming at his head. “And you’ll join him.”

Desmond gaped. His pale pupils widened for a second, a wheezing sound of disbelief and terror escaped his mouth. Anja offered a tiny smile, and then pulled the trigger. She shot him twice in the head, the second bullet made his skull split open like a cracked egg, and Desmond slumped lifeless to the ground. Blood and brain sprayed the wall behind him with a pink shade of red.

Charon didn’t even blink at the mess, and wordlessly followed her out of the bunker, climbing behind her up the ladder.

Once they reached the top, Anja caught him glancing at her face, her cheek still red from Desmond’s slap. She turned to look at him fully, her expression expectant.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s just my pride that’s wounded,” she answered him honestly, looking towards the top of the lighthouse beyond the ruins of the old mansion. “I can’t remember the last time someone slapped me like that.”

“I can,” Charon grumbled silently, following close behind when she began walking towards the lighthouse.

It turned out they didn’t have to swim to reach the lighthouse. Anja, harboring a slight fear of water, trying not to think about all the mutated creatures that could be hiding underneath the surface, was relieved. She had heard stories… Stories that made her avoid swimming in deep waters if she cold.

They waded over to the small island that the lighthouse stood on, the water only reaching their hips at the deepest part. They didn’t speak to each other, both too tense and occupied with their own thoughts. Once they reached the green metal door to the lighthouse and entered, they both froze.

Charon quickly pulled her behind himself, shotgun leveled at the metal floor while a part of it screeched open to reveal a staircase down to a hidden basement. They waited, anticipating something to come charging at them from below.

When nothing happened, Anja exhaled. “We’re expected.”

“Be careful,” Charon muttered when she stepped around him, peeking down the stairs. She readied her assault rifle, and they both descended the stairs.

Anja had been right. They were expected, but not necessarily welcome. While they descended deeper and further down into the underground laboratory, they had to fight through several robots and turrets. Most of them were Robobrains; tread-driven machines with a glass bowl for head, with a real brain inside. The notion that these robots had actual human brains inside them made Anja shudder. An alarm was blaring somewhere deeper in the complex.

The walked through a long corridor, passing by something that looked like an office and several examination rooms. Anja took the time to lockpick any containers she found, looting them of valuables and useful supplies. They found medical supplies, as well as a lot of ammo. Charon watched her with a frown while she stuffed all the chems she found into her backpack.

She hacked a couple of terminals, learning the grim truth about the laboratory and its purpose. It looked like they had experimented on living brains in this place, trying to operationally infuse them with robots and machines. The goal was, as far as Anja could tell, to expand the life-span and abilities of a brain by putting it inside in the biogel containers. She suspected this was how Calvert had survived without his body for so long. It also, somewhat, explained how he’d been able to mind control his Tribals. It was all because of that biological gel.

They also passed by several surgery rooms. Anja grimaced when they saw the blood and the equipment, imagining that not all of the poor subjects had volunteered to be here. She cringed when they passed the tiny cells the subjects had been kept in. Small rooms with nothing more than a bucket and a cot to sleep in. Many of the cells has skeletons in them.

Charon stayed close to her the entire time. His presence was intimidating and reassuring at once. She trusted him to have her back, to make sure no one managed to take her by surprise. But at the same time, the silence in which he followed her was unnerving. He didn’t say anything, and now that she couldn’t feel him through their bond, it was like having a quiet stranger stalking behind her. It made the hairs in her neck stand in a paranoid and shrill uneasiness.

They finally reached a round and open room. A glowing large tank was suspended in the middle of the room, surrounded by several inactive Protectrons. The tank in the middle contained one, single brain. A speaker next to the tank buzzed when they approached. A metallic voice spoke to them through the speaker.

“Ah, yes. Mister Lockheart’s little pet. At last we meet, face to jar. Where is your master, little pet?”

Anja leveled her assault rifle, very much aware of the slow whirring sound all around her that indicated many of the Protectrons were activating. Trusting Charon to watch her six, she approached the catwalk that lead up to the tank with slow steps.

“Dead,” she said calmly. “Desmond Lockheart is dead. I killed him.”

A metallic laugh echoed out of the speakers. “Ah, Desmond always were so bad at choosing his allies. Splendid! Just splendid.”

“You think so?” Anja said, coming to a halt right in front of the tank. The brain had several tubes and wires connected to it, and many small pumps and fans made sure that the tank’s oxygen-levels were stable. The gel bubbled as if boiling.

“I assume you are here for some reward, then?” Calvert’s metallic voice spat at her. “Money? Weapons?”

“No. You did this to me,” she gestured to the scar in her head. “Your death is the only reward I need.”

“Idiot, foolish little girl,” Calvert laughed after a few more seconds. “ _I_ didn’t do that to you. My followers did that to you.”

“Exactly,” Anja growled. “Your followers. That makes you responsible.”

“I can see now why you worked with Desmond. You really are stupid.”

Anja huffed, and shot the tank once. The glass cracked, but still held.

“No STOP!” Calvert panicked. “My experiments will change the world. You can’t kill me! I’m the greatest mind that ever lived!”

Anja shot the tank again. The cracks spread, and gel began trickling out of one of them.

Suddenly, every Protectron in the room activated. Anja shot the tank, again, and again, panicking when she heard Charon’s booming shotgun behind her. The tank exploded, liquids and tubes falling, the brain hanging in the air by just a few wires. She shot the brain, watching it tear apart by her bullets.

Once the brain was destroyed, the robots deactivated. The room fell completely silent.

…

 

The ferry had returned. Anja and Charon hurried to the motel to grab their things. They jogged down the hill from the mansion, Charon slightly ahead of her, checking for dangers.

He still hadn’t said much to her. After she’d shot Calvert’s tank, he’d just looked at the remains of the brain with an unreadable expression, and then helped her loot the place before they left. She caught him looking though. Several times while they made their way back up to the exit, he glanced at her. She could almost make out the slight hints of a frown on his scarred forehead, but it might also be the light that tricked her.

She wished she could feel him.

Anja wasn’t happy about how this had ended. She wanted answers. She needed to know why this had happened to her, why they had taken _that_ part of her brain. The part that was connected to her soulmate. And more importantly, she needed to know if it was reversible. But everything had happened so fast, and the fear of Charon’s safety had caused her to panic.

Reaching the motel, she waited while Charon quickly unlocked the door and grabbed their duffle bags. He wordlessly threw her own at her, and she caught it easily enough, strapping it over her shoulder and chest. The large ghoul gave her a nod, and then slung his own over his shoulder, following behind her towards the docks.

Nadine, the orange haired girl, was waiting for them onboard the Duchess gambit.

“Hey!” she greeted cheerfully when Anja and Charon boarded the ferry. The smile she gave them was rueful and smug at once. “You came just in time! Guess what; I found out who went rooting in our skulls, and you’ll never guess who it was!”

Anja unclasped her duffle bag and left it on the floor. “Who?” she asked, somehow failing to gather enough enthusiasm to care.

“Alright,” Nadine said, grinning wider. “As a totally unrelated hint, I’m in charge of his boat, now.”

That caught Anja’s attention. She narrowed her eyes at the girl. “ _Tobar_ did it?”

“Who’s Tobar?” Charon asked.

“He’s the ferryman,” Anja explained, looking at Nadine with big eyes. “Goddammit, I knew there was something off about him. I just knew!”

“Yeah,” Nadine agreed. “Whenever the Tribals sent someone to the swamp, he’d wait around to nab them when the Punga seeds gassed them. Then he’d do his amateur surgery for the Tribals and let us wander back.”

“Why?” Anja felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Everything made sense now; the way Tobar had looked at her, the way he’d suggested she investigated the old mansion. He had been doing Calvert’s and the Tribals’ work. Although Tobar couldn’t have known she would end up being recruited by Calvert’s enemy, she had still ended up with a piece of her brain missing.

Nadine shrugged. “In exchange for Punga Fruits to trade.”

A slightly hysterical laugh escaped her, startling Nadine slightly. “All of _this_ … My brain, my soulmate…” She began pacing. “All of this, for some _fucking fruit_?? That… That BASTARD!”

“Yeah, he seemed nice enough, didn’t he? I wouldn’t have figured it out if I hadn’t snuck into his engine room while waiting for you. I was going to mess around in there a little to stall his departure, like Charon here asked me to.”

Anja was still pacing, working herself up into a crackling ball of energetic rage. Nadine wasn’t smiling any longer. Charon watched from the sideline, looking just as emotionless as only he could manage. In a short moment of clarity, his reaction, or lack of any, was surprising. Anja would have thought that Charon was the first to work himself up over this. He was, after all and as far Anja knew, still furious about what had happened in this place.

Nadine kept talking. “From the look of his engine room, Tobar kept every bit of gray matter he cut out, and he had quite a collection! You can take a look, if your stomach’s up to it.”

Anja stopped pacing, frowning. “Where is he?”

“Well, I figured you’d want a shot at revenge, so I put him under citizen’s arrest, sorta. He’s in the engine room, along with his sick little trophies.”

Anja turned on her heel and immediately made her way over to the engine room’s door. She heard Charon’s steps behind her.

“And while you’re in there,” Nadine called after them. “Feel free to give Tobar my love. Preferably with the sharp end of a hot knife.”

Anja unlocked the engine room without hesitation, stepping inside.

The ferryman was leaning against the wall on the other side of the small room, watching as Anja and her ghoul companion entered. He grinned with a sneer when he saw who it was, his mustache tilted upwards.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite traveler!” he chuckled darkly. “And oh, what a trip you were on.”

In her peripheral vision, Anja saw several jars on shelves around the walls. But she didn’t study them. Tobar had her full attention now. She stopped in the middle of the room, her stance powerful and steady. She watched him mentally squirm for just a second, before he reined himself in and chuckled again.

“You should have heard some of the things that came out of your mouth while you were under.” He cast a glance over her head, looking towards the ghoul towering behind her, visibly swallowing.

“Why’d you do this?” Anja asked.

Tobar scoffed at her. “Why do we do anything? You travel the world, kill people, take trophies that interest you, and move on. I’m much the same. The only difference is that my trophies are somewhat more medical in nature. And to be honest, I probably kill fewer people than you do.”

“We’re nothing alike,” Anja sneered back at him. “I don’t pride myself in hurting people.”

Tobar ignored her comment with another scoff, narrowing his eyes at her. “Who’s Charon?” he asked, tilting his head. “You kept calling his name.”

 A very tiny smirk crossed her lips. “Charon?”

“Yes,” the ghoul behind her rasped. Was that anticipation she heard in his rough voice? The dumbstruck look on Tobar’s face almost made her laugh.

Stepping aside, Anja’s smirk grew wider. “Would you like to introduce yourself to this man?”

The large ghoul dipped his head a little, popping the joints in his knuckles loose. “With pleasure.”

He moved with strength and ease, approaching the now terrified ferryman quickly. The first punch sent Tobar flying through the small room. Anja had to quickly sidestep not to get knocked over. The sick sound of flesh meeting something hard made her stomach turn violently. The punch was shockingly brutal to watch. She saw though, that Charon was restraining himself - because Tobar was still conscious when he hit the floor. He groaned and tried to rise, bleeding where his skin had torn open around his eye. He looked… wrong. As if the side of his face had fractured inwards a little. One of his eyes bulged slightly out of its socket.

Charon bent and easily picked the man up by the collar of his clothes, only to hurl him face first into the wall. He grabbed him and twisted him around, the second punch causing his head to violently crash back to the wall. A wet sound came from his head and his nose exploded in blood. This time, Tobar screamed.

The ghoul only gave the man a couple of seconds to realize how badly injured he was, and then he moved back to punch again. Anja had glued herself against the door now, watching with big eyes when Charon’s fist connected with the man’s jaw for the third punch. The entire lower half of Tobar’s face seemed to dislocate in impact, moving too far to the side, and then fall slack open. Several teeth fell out, accompanied with lots of blood. She understood his jaw had broken. Tobar’s eyes were wide and panicked while he struggled to control his own face. A gurgling sound escaped him., his eyes flickered in terror around the small room; at the massive ghoul holding him in place, at Anja who was staring back, and everywhere.

_Three punches_ , Anja thought, swallowing, suppressing a sudden urge to flee the room. Three punches were all it took from Charon to break someone’s head.

Charon hesitated, holding the terrified and broken man in place. His head tilted a little, as if listening for orders. Anja gaped, horrorstruck, unable to form any coherent words. Tobar saw it, saw the hesitation in the ghoul, and his eyes fastened on hers, pleading. When no words came from her, Tobar released a guttural wail in resignation, realizing he was going to die.

The fourth punch was a killing blow. Anja closed her eyes and didn’t watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I did this well enough. I wanted violence and revenge, but I also wanted it to be a little anticlimactic. Because that's just how the world works and revenge is never perfect. Also, that's how the quest goes in-game. 
> 
> I hope you noticed the slightly ill-timed and humorous sexual tension there at the beginning of the chapter? I'm quite proud of that one actually, and I find myself slightly tempted to have Anja give him that order. Completely by accident, of course ;)  
> We'll see more situations like this from now on. I did tag this story with sex, after all ;)


End file.
